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MY HOME IN THE 
FIELD OF HONOUR 

FRANCES WILSON HUARD 




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MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 



MY HOME IN THE 
FIELD OF HONOUR 



BY 

FRANCES WILSON HUARD 



WITH DRAWINGS BY CHARLES HUARD 




NEW YORK 
GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY 






Copyright, 1916, by 
George H. Doran Company 



Printed in the United^^^t^tes of America 

MAY 22 1916 
©CI.A433090 



To H. 



ILLUSTRATIONS 
My Home in the Field of Honour Frontispiece 



PAGE 



They Asked for H. in the Courtyard : "In case 
OF Mobilisation, you have three Horses and 

YOUR FARM-CART TO PRESENT TO THE AUTHORI- 
TIES" 18" 

At the Entrance to every little Village we 

WERE obliged TO HALT 44 

We drove through the quaint little city.. . 70' 

One by one the towns and villages had been 
bombarded, looted and burned 96 ' 

All THE BRIDGES WERE CUT OR BLOWN UP 122' 

Noisy rolling sounds told me that Artillery 
was crossing the city 148 

as we crossed the public square the ambu- 
lances were lining up in battle array. . . 174"^ 

Ruins of Every Farm House stood like Spec- 
tres IN THE Brilliant Sunshine 200 '^ 

Doors and Windows no Longer Existed 226' 

A Bugle sounded and I could hear the Tramp 
OF Soldiers' Feet 252 

A huge Black Cross stood forth in the semi- 
darkness 280' 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF 
HONOUR 



The third week in July found a very merry 
gathering at the Chateau de VilHers. 

(VilHers is our summer home situated near 
the Marne River, sixty miles or an hour by 
train from Paris.) 

Nothing, I think, could have been farther 
from our thoughts than the idea of war. Our 
friends, May Wilson Preston, the artist ; Mrs. 
Chase, the editor of a well-known woman's 
magazine; Hugues Delorme, the French 
dramatist; and numerous other guests, dis- 
cussed the theatre and the "Caillaux case" from 
every conceivable point of view, and their con- 
versations were only interrupted by serious 
attempts to prove their national superiority at 
bridge, and long delightful walks in the park. 

As I look back now over those cheerful times, 
I can distinctly remember one bright sunny 
morning, when after a half -hour's climbing we 

[9] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

reached the highest spot on our property. 
Very warm and a trifle out of breath we sought 
shelter beneath a big purple beech, and I can 
still hear H. explaining to Mrs. Chase: 

"Below you on the right runs the Marne, 
and over there, beyond those hills, do you see 
that long straight line of trees?" 

"Yes." 

"Well, that's the road that leads from Paris 
to Metz!" 

At that moment I'm confident he hadn't the 
slightest arriere pensee. 

On Monday, the 27th, Mrs. Preston, hav- 
ing decided to take her leave, I determined to 
accompany her to Paris. Several members of 
the house party joined us, leaving H. and a 
half-dozen friends at Villiers. We took an 
early morning train, and wrapped in our news- 
papers we were rolling peacefully towards the 
capital when someone called out, "For 
Heaven's sake, look at those funny soldiers!" 

Glancing through the window, I caught sight 
of numerous grey-haired, bushy-bearded men 
stationed at even distances along the line, while 
here and there little groups beneath or around 
a tent were preparing the morning meal. 
[10] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

What strange looking creatures they were; 
anything but military in their dirty white over- 
alls — the only things that betrayed their call- 
ing being their caps and their guns ! 

"What on earth are they?" queried an 
American. 

"Oh, only some territorials serving their last 
period of twenty-nine days. It's not worth 
while giving them uniforms for so short a 
time!" 

"Bah!" came from the other end of the com- 
partment, "I should think it was hot enough 
in the barracks without forcing men that age 
to mount guard in the sun !" 

"It's about time for the Grand manoeuvres, 
isn't it?" 

And in like manner the conversation rose 
and dwindled, and we returned to our papers, 
paying no more attention to the territorials 
stationed along the rails. 

A theatre party having been arranged, I 
decided to stop over in Paris. The play was 
Georgette Lemeunier at the Comedie Fran- 
9aise. The house was full — the audience 
chiefly composed of Americans and tourists, 
and throughout the entire piece even very sig- 

[11] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

nificant allusions to current political events 
failed to arouse any unwonted enthusiasm on 
the part of the French contingent. Outside 
not even an edition speciale de la Presse be- 
tokened the slightest uneasiness. 

The next day, that is, Tuesday, the 28th, 
I had a business meeting with my friends, Mr. 
Gautron and Mr. Pierre Mortier, editor of the 
Gil Bias, Mr. Gautron was on the minute, 
but Mr. Mortier kept us waiting over an hour 
and when finally we had despaired of his com- 
ing I heard someone hurrying across the court, 
and the bell was rung impatiently. Mr. 
Mortier rushed in, unannounced, very red, very 
excited, very apologetic. 

"A thousand pardons. I'm horribly late, 
but you'll forgive me when you hear the news. 
I've just come from the Foreign Office. All 
diplomatic relations with Germany are sus- 
pended. War will be declared Saturday!" 

Mr. Gautron and I looked at each other, 
then at Mr. Mortier, and smiled. 

"No, I'm not joking. I'm as serious as I 

have ever been in my life. The proof: on 

leaving the Foreign Office I went and had a 

neglected tooth filled, and on my way down, 

[12] 



MY HOME IN THE EIELD OF HONOUR 

stopped at my shoemaker's and ordered a pair 
of good strong boots for Saturday morning. 
I'll be fit then to join my regiment." 

Our faces fell. 

"But why Saturday?" 

"Because Saturday's the first of August, 
and the idea of keeping the news back is to 
prevent a panic on the Bourse, and to let the 
July payments have time to be realized." 

"You don't really believe it's serious, do 
you?" 

"Yes, really. I'm not fooling, and if I've 
any advice to give you it's this: draw out all 
the money you can from your bank, and take 
all the gold they'll give you. You may need it. 
I've telephoned to the Gil Bias for them to do 
as much for us. The worst of all though is, 
that every man on my paper is of an age 
bound to military service. War means that 
when I leave, staff, printers and all will have 
to go the same day and the Gil Bias shuts its 
doors. We cease to exist — that's all." 

Somewhat disconcerted by this astonishing 

news, we had some little difficulty getting 

down to facts, but when we did business was 

speedily dispatched and Mr. Mortier took his 

[13] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

leave. Mr. Gautron carried me off to 
luncheon. 

"You must come," he protested when I 
pleaded an engagement. "You must come, 
or my wife and the boys will never believe me." 

We found Madame Gautron and her two 
splendid sons waiting, rather impatiently. We 
told our news. 

"Come, come now. You can't make us take 
that as an excuse!" 

We protested our sincerity, and went in to 
luncheon which began rather silently. 

I questioned the boys as to their military 
duties. Both were under-officers in an infantry 
regiment — bound to join their barracks within 
twenty-four hours after the call to arms. 

We did not linger over our coffee. Each 
one seemed anxious to go about his affairs. I 
left the Gautron boys at the corner of their 
street, each carrying his army shoes imder his 
arm. 

"To be greased — in case of accident," they 
laughingly explained. 

That was the last time I ever saw them. 
They fell "on the Field of Honour" both the 
same day, and hardly a month later. 
[14] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

But to return to my affairs. 

A trifle upset by what Mr. Mortier had told 
me, I hurried to the nearest telephone station 
and asked for Villiers. When after what 
seemed an interminable time I got the connec- 
tion, I explained to H. what had happened. 

"For Heaven's sake leave politics alone and 
take the five o'clock train home! We need 
you to make a second fourth at bridge." 
H.'s lightheartedness somewhat reassured me, 
though for prudence's sake I went to my bank 
and asked to withdraw my entire account. 

"Why, Madame Huard," said the clerk in 
surprise, "you don't mean to say you are 
frightened?" 

I explained what I had heard in the morning. 

^'Pensez-vous? Non! We would be the first 
to be notified. We were ever so much closer 
to war two years ago — at Agadir! There is 
no cause for alarm." 

He almost persuaded me, but after hesitat- 
ing a moment I decided to abide by my original 
intentions. 

"I can always put my money back in a week 
or so if all blows over and I find I don't need 
it," I argued. 

[15] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

"Certainly, Madame — as you will." 

And the twenty-eighth of July the Societe 
Generate gave me all the gold I requested. 

As the five o'clock express hurried me hack 
home I began to understand the gravity of 
the situation — for the "queer looking soldiers" 
were nearer together all along the railway line, 
and it dawned on me that theirs was a very 
serious mission — ^namely, that of safeguarding 
the steel artery which leads from Paris to the 
eastern frontier. 

At Charly, our station, I was much surprised 
to see three French officers in full uniform get 
off the train and step into the taxi-autobus 
which deposits its travellers at the only hotel 
in the vicinity. 

At the chateau my story failed to make an 
impression. The men pooh-poohed the idea 
of war, and returned to the evening papers 
and the proces Caillauw, which was the most 
exciting question of the moment. In the pan- 
try the news was greeted with hilarity, and 
coachman and gardener declared that they 
would shoulder their spades and faire la guerre 
en sabots. 

My friend and neighbor, Elizabeth Gau- 
[16] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

thier, was the only one who took the matter 
seriously, and that because she had no less 
than five brothers and a husband who would 
be obliged to serve in case of serious events. 
I felt rather ashamed when I saw her coun- 
tenance darken, for after all, she was alone in 
Villiers with two tiny children; her husband, 
the well-known archivist, coming down but for 
the week-end. "What is the sense of alarming 
people so uselessly?" I thought. 

Wednesday, the 29th, the papers began to 
talk of "a tension in the political relations 
between France and Germany" which, how- 
ever, did not quench the gaiety of a picnic 
luncheon in the grove by our river. 

In the afternoon the old garde-champetre 
asked for H. in the courtyard. 

"In case of mobilisation," said he, "y^^ have 
three horses and your farm cart to present to 
the authorities. Your cart must have its awn- 
ings complete. And your horses harnessed 
with their halters!" 

H. laughed and told him that he was giving 
himself a lot of useless trouble. 

Thursday, the 30th, market day at Charly, 
the nearest town to Villiers. We both drove 
[17] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

down in the victoria, and were not surprised 
to see my officers of the day before seated in 
the hotel dining-room, finishing breakfast. 

"What are they down here for?" I queried 
of the proprietor. 

"Oh, they belong to the Etat Major and 
are out here to verify their maps. The Mayor 
has given them an office in the town hall. They 
go off on their bicycles eariy every morning 
and only return for meals." 

"Oh!" 

"It's rather a treat to see a uniform out here, 
where hardly an officer has appeared since last 
year when we had Prince George of Servia and 
his staff for three days." 

The general topic on the market place was 
certainly not war, and we drove home some- 
what reassured. 

Friday, the 31st, however, the tone of the 
newspapers was serious and our little village 
began to grow alarmed when several soldiers 
on holiday leave received individual official 
telegrams to rejoin their regiments immedi- 
ately. Little knots of peasants could be seen 
grouped together along the village street, a 
thing unheard of in that busy season when 
[18] 






-^ /" 



.-^J-^' 






THEY ASKED FOR H. IN THE COURTYARD: "iN CASE 
OF MOBILISATION, YOU HAVE THREE HORSES AND 
YOUR FARM-CART TO PRESENT TO THE AUTHORI- 
TIES" [Page 17] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

vineyards need so much attention. Towards 
noon the news ran hke wildfire that men be- 
longing to the youngest classes had received 
their official notices and were leaving to join 
their corps. Yet there was no commotion any- 
where. 

"It will last three weeks and they'll all come 
home, safe and sound. It's bothersome, though, 
that the Government should choose just our 
busiest season to take the men out for a holi- 
day!" declared one peasant. 

There was less hilarity in the servants' hall 
when I entered after luncheon. At least I 
fancied so. The men had gone about their 
work quicker than usual, and the women were 
silently washing up. 

"Does Madame know that the fils Poupard 
is leaving by the four o'clock train — and that 
Granger and Veron are going too?" asked 
my faithful Catherine. 

"No." 

"Yes, Madame — and Honorine is in the 
wash-house crying as though her heart would 
break." 

I turned on my heel and walked toward the 
river. In the wash-house I found Honorine 
[19] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

bending over her linen, the great tears stream- 
ing down her face, in spite of her every effort 
to control them. 

*'Why, Honorine, what's the matter?" 

"He's gone, Madame — gone without my see- 
ing him — without even a clean pair of socks!" 

"Who?" 

"My son, Madame!" 

And the tears burst out afresh, though in 
silence. 

"Yes, Madame, I found this under the door 
when I came in at noon — " She drew a 
crumpled paper from her apron pocket. I 
smoothed it out and read: 

''Je viens de recevoir ma feuille, Je pars de 
suite, Je prends les deuoo francs sur la 
cheminee. Jean" (I've just received my 
notice. Am leaving at once. Have taken the 
two francs that are on the mantel. Jean.) 

I cannot say what an impression that brief 
but heroic note made upon me. In my mind it 
has always stood as characteristic of that won- 
derful national resolution to do one's duty, and 
to make the least possible fuss about it. 

At tea-time the male contingent of the house- 
party was decidedly restless. 
[20] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 



"Let's go up to Paris and see what's going 



on." 



"There's no use doing that. Ehzabeth 
Gauthier went this morning and will be back 
in an hour with all the news. It's too late to 
go to town, anyway!" 

"Well, if things don't look better to-morrow 
I've got to go. My militaiy book is somewhere 
in my desk at home and it's best to have it en 
regie in case of necessity," said Delorme. 

"Mine's at home, too," echoed our friend 
Bouteron. 

"We'll all go to-morrow, and make a day of 
it," decided H. 

Just then the silhouette of the three officers 
on bicycles passed up the road. 

"Let's go out and ask them what's up," 
suggested someone. 

"Pooh! Do you think they know anything 
more than we do ? And if they do know some- 
thing, they wouldn't tell you! Don't make a 
fool of yourself, Hugues!" 

Presently Elizabeth Gauthier arrived, placid 
and cool as though everything were normal. 

"Paris is calm; calm as Paris always is in 
August." 

[21] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

"But the papers? Your husband? What 
does he say?" 

"There are no extras — Leon doesn't seem 
over-alarmed, though as captain in the reserves 
he would have to leave within an hour after any 
declaration of hostilities. He has a special 
mission to perform. But he's certain of com- 
ing down by the five o'clock train to-morrow." 

We went in to dinner but conversation 
lagged. Each one seemed preoccupied and no 
one minded the long silences. We were so 
quiet that the Angelus ringing at Charly, some 
four miles away, roused us with something of 
a shock. 

Saturday morning, August 1st, the carryall 
rolled up to the station for the early train. 
All made a general rush for the papers which 
had just arrived and all of us were equally 
horrified when a glance showed the headline — 
JaurJis^ the Great Socialist Leader^ Assas- 
sinated. Decidedly the plot thickened and 
naturally we all jumped to the same conclusion 
— a political crime. 

"There's a stronger hand than the mur- 
derer's back of that felony," murmured a plain 
man from the comer of our compartment. 
[22] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

"What makes you say that?" 

"Why, can't you see, Monsieur, that our 
enemies are counting on that deed to stir up 
the revolutionary party and breed discord in 
the country? It's plain as day !" 

That was rather opening the door to a 
lengthy discussion, but our friends refused to 
debate, especially as we could hear excited mas- 
culine voices rising high above the ordinary 
tone in the compartments on either side of us. 

The journey di^ew to a close without an}^ 
further remarkable incident. It seemed to me 
that we passed more up trains than usual, but 
we were not a moment overdue. There was 
nothing to complain of. As we approached La 
Villette and drew into the Gare de I'Est every- 
one noticed the extraordinary number of loco- 
motives that were getting up steam in the 
yards. There were rows and rows of them, 
just as close together as it was possible to 
range them, and as far as the eye could see 
their glittering boilers extended down the 
tracks in even lines. Each one had a freshly 
glued yellow label, on which was printed in 
big black capitals the name of its home station. 
That was the most significant preparation we 
[23] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

had witnessed as yet. Presently we observed 
that the platforms of freight and express 
depots had been swept clear of every obstacle, 
and the usually encumbered Gare de I'Est was 
clean and empty as the hand of man could 
make it. 

In the courtyard our party separated, prom- 
ising to meet for the five o'clock express — 
"Unless something serious prevents." 

I accompanied H. to the Caserne des 
Minimes where he went to see if his military 
situation was registered up to date in his 
livret, and all along the streets leading from 
the station we met women silently wiping their 
eyes. 

What a sight the courtyard of that barracks 
presented! Some five or six thousand men of 
all ages, classes and conditions who up until 
that moment had never thought that the loss 
of a military book entailed the slightest conse- 
quence, had one and all been pushed by that 
single thought, "Be ready for duty." Here 
they were, boys of twenty and men of forty, 
standing in line, braving their all-time enemy, 
the gendarme, each silently waiting his turn 
to explain his situation. To the credit of 
[24] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

the gendarme and all those in authority, it 
must be said that contrary to their usual custom 
they acted like loving fathers with these prodi- 
gal sons of the Republic — giving all possible 
information without the sign of a grumble, 
and advising those who were still streaming in 
at the door to come back towards five o'clock, 
when the hne should have advanced a little. It 
was then scarcely ten A. M. ! 

H. had finished in no time. 

"All I've got to do is to go home and wait 
until I am called for," he explained as we 
walked away at a brisk gait. 

Like most country people when they come 
to town I had numerous errands to do, so we 
set off towards the Bazar de VHotel de Ville, 
renowned for its farming implements. 

At the corner of the Rue des Archives we 
met Monsieur Gauthier on his way to his 
Museum. 

''Grave — tres grave — la situation ^ Mon- 
sieur f^ was all he could say. 

"What would you advise us to do?" 

"Well, to speak plainly, I should advise you 
to shut up the chateau, leave a guardian, and 
open your Paris apartment. You're in the 
[25] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

east, you know! I shall go down by the five 
train and bring back Elizabeth and the chil- 
dren. I'd be easier in my mind if I knew they 
were in a big city! If you have to leave, 
Madame Huard would be better off here." 

H. was very sober as we left Mr. Gauthier. 

"Bah! Cheer up! I'm afraid our friend is 
an alarmist. You know he has two young 
children !" 

We entered the Bazar, which is the "big- 
gest" of the big stores in Paris. Every day in 
the week, and Sundays included, it is usually 
so crowded with buyers and sellers that one 
has to elbow one's way, and literally serve one's 
self. To our amazement it was empty — liter- 
ally empty. Not a single customer — not a 
single clerk to be seen. The long stretches 
of floor and counters were vacant as 
though the store were closed. I gasped 
a little in surprise and just as I did so 
a female voice from behind a distant desk 
called out: 

"What is your pleasure, Madame?" 

I turned, and a little woman in black ad- 
vanced towards me. 

"Yes, I know the place looks queer, but you 
[26] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

see all our clerks are young men and everyone 
of them has been obliged to join his regiment 
since closing time last evening!" 

"Leave farming alone and come over to 
Conard's. He's bound to have some news," 
said H. impatiently. 

Conard's is a big publishing firm on the 
boulevard, renowned as a meeting place for 
most of the well-known political men. 

Conard greeted us in silence. He knew no 
more than we, and we fell to talking of the 
latest events and trying to come to a conclu- 
sion. Then one of the habitues stepped in. 

^^Eh hien. Monsieur, what news?" 

The person addressed kept on perusing the 
titles of the books spread along the counter, 
and drawing a long puff from his cigarette 
and without lifting his eyes, said, "The mobi- 
lisation is for four o'clock! Official. Have 
you something entertaining to read on my way 
to the front?" 

''Whatr 

"Yes, gentlemen." 

"War?" 

"It looks very much like it !" 

Though almost expected, the news gave us 
[27] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

a thrill. We stood spellbound and tongue- 
tied. 

What to do? There were so many decisions 
to be made at a moment's notice! H. was 
for our coming to Paris, as all the men must 
necessarily leave the chateau. 

"Mobilisation doesn't necessarily mean war, 
man. Besides if it does come it can't last long. 
You'd better go back to your place in the 
country, Huard. A big estate like that needs 
looking after," said Conard. 

"Where do you live?" questioned the gentle- 
man who had given us the news. 

"Villiers — sixty miles east of Paris." 

"Well, if you decide to go there I advise 
you to take the soonest train. The eastern 
railway belongs to the army, and only the 
army, beginning at noon to-day." 

H. looked at his watch. It was nearly 
eleven, and our next train left at noon sharp. 
We jumped into a taxi. 

"Drive to the Gare de I'Est and on the way 
stop at Tarides! We must have maps, good 
road maps of the entire north and east," said 
H., turning to me. 

It seemed as though he had had that thought 
[28] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

in common with the entire Parisian popula- 
tion, for all down the boulevards the book- 
shops and stationers were already overflowing 
with men, chiefly in regimentals, and as to the 
shoe-shops and boot-makers, — there was a line 
waiting outside of each. Yet there was no 
excitement, no shouting, not even an "extra." 

What a different sight our station presented 
to that of two hours before! The great iron 
gates were shut, and guarded by a line of 
ser gents de ville. Only men joining their 
regiments and persons returning to their le- 
gitimate dwellings were allowed to pass. And 
there were thousands of both. Around the 
grillwork hovered dense groups of women, 
bravely waving tearless adieux to their men- 
folk. 

After assuring himself that there was still 
a noon train, H. led me to the restaurant 
directly opposite the station. 

"We'll have a bite here. Heaven knows 
what time we shall reach home!" 

The room was filled to overflowing; the 

lunchers being mostly officers. At the table 

on our right sat a young fellow whose military 

harnessings were very new and very stiff, but 

[29] 



MY HOME IN THE EIELD OF HONOUR 

in spite of the heat, a high collar and all his 
trappings he managed to put away a very 
comfortable repast. 

On our left was a party composed of a 
captain, his wife and two other freres d'armes. 
That brave little Parisian woman at once 
won my admiration, for though, in spite 
of superhuman efforts, the tears would trickle 
down her face, she never gave in one second 
to her emotion but played her part as hostess, 
trying her best to put her guests at ease and 
smilingly inquiring after their family and 
friends as though she were receiving under 
ordinary circumstances in her own home. 

At a quarter before noon we left them and 
elbowed our way through the ever-gathering 
crowd towards our train. 

"The twelve o'clock express — what plat- 
form?" H. enquired. 

"The ten o'clock train hasn't gone yet. 
Monsieur!" 

"Is there any danger of its not going?" 

"Oh, no; but there's every danger of its 
being the last." 

And the man spoke the truth, for as our 
friend the politician predicted, at noon military 
[30] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

authority took over the station and all those 
who were so unfortunate as to have been left 
behind were obliged to wait in Paris three 
mortal weeks. On the Eastern Railway all 
passenger service was immediately sacrificed 
to the transportation of troops. 

It seems to me that this was the longest 
train I have ever seen. The coaches stretched 
far out beyond the station into torrid sun- 
light. Every carriage was filled up to and 
beyond its normal capacity. There could be 
no question of what class one would travel — 
it was travel where one could! Yet no one 
seemed to mind. I managed to find a seat in 
a compartment already occupied by two young 
St. Cyr students in full uniform and white 
gloves, a very portly aged couple and half a 
dozen men of the working classes. 

"We'll take turns at sitting, Monsieur," said 
one of them as H. pushed further on into the 
corridor. 

At the end of five minutes' time the conver- 
sation had become general. Although as yet 
there had been no official declaration everyone 
present was convinced that the news would 
shortly be made public, and though the crowd 
[31] 



MY HOME IN THE EIELD OF HONOUR 

• 

was certainly not a merry one, it was certainly 
not sad. Most of the men had received their 
orders in the morning, and had said good-bye 
to their loved ones at home. In consequence, 
there were no heart-rending scenes of farewell, 
no tearful leave-takings from family and 
friends, no useless manifestations. 

Through the doorway of our stifling com- 
partment, which up until the last moment was 
left open for air, we could see the train on the 
opposite platform silently, rapidly filling with 
men, each carrying a new pair of shoes either 
slung over the shoulders or neatly tied in a box 
or paper parcel. Then without any warning, 
without any hilarious vociferations on the part 
of its occupants, it quietly drew out of the 
station, to be instantly replaced by another 
train of cars. 

Five times we watched the same operation 
recommence ere the ten o'clock train decided 
to leave Paris. Then as the guard went along 
the platform slamming the doors, a boyish face 
poked its way into the aperture of our com- 
partment. 

"Hello, Louis," said he, addressing one of 
the workmen. "Hello, Louis, you here, too!" 
[32] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

''Eh hien, cette fois je crois qu'on y va! 
Heinr 

Our door closed and the trainman whistled. 

''Bon voyager shouted the boy through the 
window. 

"The same to you," replied the other. That 
was all. 

It was not a very eventful journey. It 
was merely hot and lengthy. We stopped at 
every little way station either to let down or 
take on passengers. We were side-tracked and 
forgotten for what seemed hours at a time, to 
allow speedy express trains filled with men 
and bound for the eastern frontier to pass on 
and be gone. 

At Changis-St. Jean I put my head out of 
the window and there witnessed a most touch- 
ing sight. A youngish man in a well-fitting 
captain's uniform, accompanied by his wife and 
two pretty babies, was preparing to take his 
leave. He was evidently well known and 
esteemed in his little village, for the curate, the 
mayor, the municipal council and numerous 
friends had come to see him off. The couple 
bore up bravely until the whistle blew — then, 
clasping each other in an almost brutal em- 
[33] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

brace, they parted, he to jump into the moving 
train mid the shouts of well-wishers, and she, 
her shoulders shaking with emotion, to return 
to her empty home. 

Four months later, almost to a day, I again 
put my head out of the car window as we 
stopped at Changis. Imagine my surprise on 
seeing almost the same group! I recognized 
the mayor, the curate and the others, and a 
little shiver went down my back as I caught 
sight of the pretty captain's wife — ^her eyes 
red and swollen beneath the long widow's veil 
that covered her face. That same hopeful little 
assembly of August first had once again 
gathered on the station platform to take pos- 
session of and to conduct to their last resting- 
place the mortal remains of their heroic 
defunct. 

Naturally, as they did not expect us before 
six at the chateau, there was no carriage to 
meet us. 

"We'll take the hotel taxi as far as Charly 
and from there we'll telephone home," said H. 
as we got down from the train. 

But there was neither hotel trap nor vehicle 
of any description at the station. True it was 
[34] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

that our train was nearly two hours late ! The 
idea of walking some four miles in the broiling 
sun was anything but amusing, but there 
seemed to be nothing else to do. So after a 
quarter of an hour uselessly spent in trying 
to get a carriage somewhere about our lone- 
some station, we started off on foot. We had 
scarcely gone two hundred yards when we 
caught sight of a Parisian taxi! H. hailed 
him! 

"What are you doing down JiereV 

"I brought down a gentleman who was in a 
hurry. You see there are no more trains out 
of Paris on this line since noon! And there 
are not likely to be any for some time to come." 

"Will you take us as far as Charly?" 

"If it's on the way to Paris — ^yes! I'm in 
a hurry to get back. I've got to join my 
regiment at the Gare du Nord before midnight, 
but I'd like to ring in another job like this 
before that. It's worth while at 150 per trip !" 

"You've got to cross Charly — there's no 
other way to Paris." 

So we made our price and were whisked 
into our little market-town. 

The inhabitants were on their doorsteps or 
[35] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

chatting in little groups, and we created quite 
a sensation in our Parisian vehicle. H. went 
to the Gendarmerie at once to see if there was 
any official news by wire since we had left 
town. 

"You're the one who ought to bring us news, 
Monsieur," said the brigadier, "What do they 
say in Paris?" 

"The mobilisation will be posted at four 
o'clock." 

A hearty peal of laughter, that was most 
refreshing in the tension of the moment, burst 
from all three gendarmes. 

"Well, it's five minutes of four now. And 
if what you say is so, I should think we'd know 
something about it by this time ! Don't worry. 
It's not so bad as you fancy." 

H. shook hands and we left. At the hotel 
we got the chateau on the wire and asked for 
the victoria at once. As the horse had to be 
harnessed and there is a two-mile drive down 
to Charly, we stopped a moment and spoke to 
the proprietress of the hotel. 

"How does it happen that your motor was 
not at the station?" said H. 

"Oh," she replied, "our officers hired it early 
[36] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

this morning and my husband had to drive 
them post-haste to Soissons. He hasn't got 
back yet!" 

Before going farther in my narrative I shall 
say here, lest I forget it, that two of the sup- 
posed officers were caught within the fortnight 
and shot at Meaux as German spies — the third 
managed to make his escape. 

Hearing the carriage coming down the hill, 
we walked towards the doorway. At that same 
moment we saw the white-trousered gendarme 
hastening towards the town hall. Catching 
sight of H., he held up the sealed envelope he 
held in his hand, and shouted, "You were right, 
Monsieur. It has come!" 

We jumped into the victoria, but as we 
crossed the square the garde-cJiampetre caught 
the bridle and stopped our turnout. 

"One moment. Monsieur." 

Then the town-crier appeared, instantly 
causing the straggling groups to cluster into 
one. He had no need to ring his bell. He 
merely lifted his hand and obtained instant 
silence, and then slowly read out in deep, 
solemn, measured tones, which I shall never 
forget until my dying day: 
[37] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

''Extreme urgence, Ordre de mobilisation 
generale, Le premier jour de la mobilisation 
est le dimanche deuce aout!" 

That was all! It was enough! The tension 
of those last two days was broken. No matter 
what the news, it was a relief. And we drove 
away 'mid the rising hum of hundreds of 
tongues, loosened after the agonising suspense. 

The news had not yet reached Villiers when 
we drove through the village street. We 
turned into the chateau and found Elizabeth 
Gauthier, her children and almost all the ser- 
vants, grouped near the entrance hall. They 
looked towards us with an appealing gaze. 

As H. opened his mouth to answer, the sharp 
pealing of the tocsin, such as it rings only 
in cases of great emergency, followed by the 
rolling of the drum, told them better than we 
could that the worst had come. 

The servants retired in silence and still the 
bell rang on. Presently we could hear the 
clicking of the sabots on the hard road as the 
peasants hurried from the fields towards the 
Mairie, 

I can see us all now, standing there in the 
brilliant afternoon sunlight — Elizabeth mur- 
[38] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

muring between her sobs, "O God, don't take 
my husband!" httle Jules cHnging to her skirts, 
amazed at her distress, and happy, hght- 
hearted, curly-headed baby Colette, chasing 
butterflies on the lawn in front of us! 



[39] 



II 

August first. 

The tocsin ceased, but the drum rolled on. 
In a moment we had recovered from the first 
shock, and all went out to the highroad to hear 
the declaration. To H. and me it was already 
a thing of the past, but we wanted to see how 
the peasants would take it. 

At Villiers as at Charly, it was the garde- 
champetre who was charged with this solemn 
mission, and the old man made a most pathetic 
figure as he stood there with his drumsticks in 
his hand, his spectacles pushed back, and the 
perspiration rolling down his tanned and 
withered cheeks. 

"What have you got to say?" queried one 
woman, who was too impatient to wait until 
all had assembled. 

^'Rien de bon — '' was the philosophic reply, 
and our friend proceeded to clear his throat 
and make his announcement. 

It was received in dead silence. Not a mur- 
[40] 



MY HOME IN THE EIELD OF HONOUR 

mur, not a comment rose from the crowd, as 
the groups dispersed, and each one returned 
to his lodgings. 

We followed suit, and I went with H. to- 
wards the servants' hall. 

"Give me the keys to the wine cellar," said 
he. "And, Nini," he continued, addressing my 
youngest maid, aged ten, "Nini, lay a cloth and 
bring out the champagne glasses. The boys 
shan't go without a last joyful toast." 

There were four of them; four of them 
whose military books ordered them to reach 
the nearest railway station, with two days' 
rations, as soon as possible after the declara- 
tion of mobilisation. H. had hardly time to 
bring up the champagne before we could hear 
the men clattering down the stairs from their 
rooms. Their luggage was quickly packed — 
a change of underclothes and a second pair of 
shoes composed their trousseaux — and Julie 
came hurrying forward with bread, sausages 
and chocolate! "Put this into your bags," she 
said. Though no one had told them, all those 
who remained seemed to have guessed what to 
do, for in like manner George, one of the 
younger gardeners, had hitched the horses to 
[41] 



MY HOME IN THE EIELD OF HONOUR 

the farm-cart and drove up to the kitchen 
entrance. 

A moment later Catherine called me aside 
and tearfully begged permission to accompany 
husband and brother as far as Paris. The 
circumstances were too serious to refuse such 
a request and I nodded my assent. 

"Come on, boys," shouted H. "Ring the 
farm-bell, Nini, and call the others in." 

Their faces radiant with excitement, they 
gathered around the long table. H. filled up 
the glasses and then raising his — 

"Here's to France, and to your safe return!" 
said he. 

"To France, and our safe return!" they 
echoed. 

We all touched glasses and the frothy amber 
liquid disappeared as by magic. Then fol- 
lowed a hearty handshaking and they all piled 
into the little cart. George cracked the whip 
and in a moment they had turned the corner 
and were gone. 

Gone — gone forever — for in the long months 
that followed how often did I recall that joyful 
toast, and now, a year later, as I write these 
lines, I know for certain that none of them 
will ever make that "safe return." 
[42] 



MY HOME IN TIJE FIELD OF HONOUR 

Elizabeth Gauthier bore up wonderfully 
under the strain. She was the first to admit 
that after all it would have been too trying to 
say good-bye to her husband. H. and I then 
decided that it was best for her to bring her 
children and maid and come over to the chateau 
where we would share our lot in common. 
There was no time for lamenting — for the 
sudden disappearance of cook, butler, and the 
three most important farm-hands, left a very 
large breach which had to be filled at once. 
There was nothing to do but to "double up," 
and the girls and women willingly offered to 
do their best. 

Julie, the only person over thirty, offered to 
take over the kitchen. To George and Leon 
fell the gardens, the stables, the horses, dogs, 
pigs and cattle. Yvonne, aged seventeen, 
offered to milk the cows, make butter and 
cheese, look after the chickens and my duck- 
farm, while Berthe and Nini, aged fourteen 
and ten, were left to take care of the chateau! 
Not a very brilliant equipment to run as large 
an establishment as ours, but all so willing and 
so full of good humour that things were less 
neglected than one might imagine. 
[43] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

The excitement of the day had been such 
that after a very hasty meal we retired ex- 
hausted at an early hour. The night was still 
— SO still that though four miles from the sta- 
tion we could hear the roar of the trains as 
they passed along the river front. 

"Hark!" said H. "How close together they 
are running!" 

We timed them. Scarcely a minute between 
each. Then, our ears becoming accustomed, 
we were soon able to distinguish the passenger 
from the freight trains, as well as the empty 
ones returning to Paris. 

"Listen ! Those last two were for the troops ! 
That one is for the ammunition. Oh, what a 
heavy one ! It must be for the artillery !" And 
we fell asleep before the noise ceased. Indeed 
for three long weeks there was no end to it, as 
night and day the Eastern Railway rushed its 
human freight towards the Eastern frontier. 

Sunday morning, August second, found us 
all at our posts as the sun rose. Elizabeth and 
I drove down to Charly for eight o'clock mass, 
and all along the road met men and boys on 
their way to the station. The church was full, 
[44] 



Ite- 





¥ 



AT THE ENTRANCE TO EVERY LITTLE VILLAGE WE 
WERE OBLIGED TO HALT [Page 56] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

but there were only women and elderly men 
in the assembly; why, we knew but too well, 
and many wives and mothers had come there to. 
hide their grief. Our curate was a very old 
man, and the news had given him such a shock 
that he was miable to say a word after reaching 
the pulpit and stood there, tongue-tied, with 
the tears streaming down his face for nearly 
five minutes — finally retiring without uttering 
a sound. Not exactly the most fortunate thing 
that could have happened, for his attitude en- 
couraged others to give way to their emotions, 
and there was a most impressive silence fol- 
lowed by much sniffling and nose-blowing ! All 
seemed better, though, after the shower, and 
the congregation disbanded with a certain sense 
of relief. 

Before leaving home H. told me to seek out 
the grocer, and to lay in a stock of everything 
she dispensed. 

"You see," said he, "we're now cut off from 
all resources. There are no big cities where we 
can get supplies, within driving reach, and our 
grocers will have nothing to sell once their 
stock is exhausted. We're living in the hope 
that the mobilisation will last three weeks. 
• [45] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

What will you do if it lasts longer? It never 
hurts to have a supply on hand!" 

"All my salt, sugar and gasoline has been 
put aside for the army. I was ordered to do 
that this morning — but come around to the 
back door and I'll see what I can do for you," 
said my amiable grocery-woman. 

"That's pleasant," thought I. "No gaso- 
line — no motor — no electricity! Privation is 
beginning early. But why grumble! We'll 
go to bed with the chickens and won't miss 
it!" 

Madame Leger and I made out a long list of 
groceries and household necessities, and she set 
to work weighing and packing, and finally 
began piling the bundles into the trap drawn 
up close to her side door. 

Our dear old Cesar must have been surprised 
by the load he had to carry home, but Elizabeth 
and I decided that a "bird in the hand is worth 
two in the bush," and one never could tell what 
astonishing "order" to-morrow might bring 
forth. 

How H. laughed when he saw us driving up 
the avenue. 

"I didn't think you'd take me so literally," 
[46] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

said he. "Why, war isn't even declared, and 
here we are preparing for a siege!" 

"Never mind," I returned, "you must re- 
member that there are twelve persons to feed, 
and we'll soon get away with all I've got here." 

The afternoon was spent in arranging our 
apartments. For convenience sake, we decided 
to close part of the chateau and all live as near 
together as possible in one wing. The children 
and younger servants seemed to consider the 
whole as a huge joke — or rather, a prolonged 
picnic party, and the house rang with peals of 
jolly laughter. 

Monday, the third, Elizabeth and I tackled 
the provisions which were piled high on the 
table in the servants' hall. A visit to the store- 
room and a little calculation showed that there 
were sufficient groceries already on hand to 
last the month out. 

"Very good," said I. "Now, the rest we'll 
divide into three even parts — that makes Sep- 
tember, October and November assured. By 
that time we'll know what precautions to take !" 

"Well, I should hope so!" came the smiling 
reply. And we set to work. It all recalled the 
days of my childhood when I used to play at 
[47] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

housekeeping and would measure out on the 
scales of my dolls' house so much rice, so much 
flour, so much maccaroni, etc. I could hardly 
believe I was in earnest. 

We were right in the midst of our task when 
our gardeners appeared bearing between them 
a clothes basket full of plums. 

"Madame, they can't wait a day longer. 
They're ready to cook now." 

It was almost a disagreeable surprise, for 
we were already as busy as we could be. But 
there was no way of waiting, or the fruit would 
be spoiled. 

"Is that all the plums?" 

"Ah, no, Madame, there are fully two bas- 
kets more. And in a day or two the black- 
berries and black currants must be picked or 
they'll rot on the vines." 

"Heaven preserve us !" thought I. "Will we 
ever come to the end of it all!" But by four 
o'clock the first basket of plums was stoned, 
the sugar weighed, and a huge copper basin 
of confiture was merrily boiling on the stove. 

"Where are you going to hide your pro- 
visions now you've got them so beautifully tied 
up?" enquired H., his eyes twinkling. 
[48] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

"Hide them?" 

"Yes!" 

"What for?" 

"In case of invasion." 

We all simply shook with laughter. 

"Well, if the Germans ever reach here there 
won't be much hope for us all," I returned. 

"No, but joking aside; suppose we suddenly 
get the French troops quartered on us, are you 
calmly going to produce your stock, let it be 
devoured in a day or so, and remain empty- 
handed when they depart? You see, it isn't the 
little fellows who'll suffer. A big place like this 
with all its rooms and its stables is just the spot 
for a camp!" 

That idea had never dawned upon us, and we 
set to thinking where we could securely hide 
our groceries in three different places. Finally 
it was agreed that one part should be put back 
of the piles of sheets in the linen closet; the 
second part hidden on the top shelf of a very 
high cupboard in my dressing-room with toilet 
articles grouped in front of it; while the third 
was carried up a tiny flight of stairs to the 
attic and there pushed through a small opening 
into the dark space that leads to the beams 
[49] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

and rafters. It was all so infantile that we 
clapped our hands and were as happy as kings 
when we had discovered such a good cachette. 

Night was coming on as I stood pouring the 
last of the plum jam into the glasses lined up 
along the kitchen table. Berthe had counted 
nearly a hundred, and I was seriously think- 
ing of adopting jam-making as a profession, 
when with much noise and trmnpeting, a closed 
auto whisked up the avenue and stopped before 
the entrance. I hurried to the kitchen door, 
untying m}^ apron as I ran, arriving just as 
an officer jumped from the motor, and before 
I had time to recognise him in his new uniform. 
Captain Gauthier rushed forward, exclaiming: 

"I've come to fetch Elizabeth and the chil- 
dren!" 

The others, too, had heard the motor, and 
in an instant there was quite an assembly in 
the courtyard. 

"I had great difficulty leaving Paris at all. 
My passport is only good until midnight," the 
captain was explaining as his wife and H. 
appeared, and almost without time for greet- 
ing — "Make haste," he continued, turning to 
Madame Gauthier. "We must be off in a 
[50] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

quarter of an hour, or our machine will never 
reach town on time." 

I hurried with Elizabeth to her apartment, 
where we woke and dressed two very aston- 
ished children, while the little maid literally 
threw the toilet necessities and a few clothes 
into a huge Gladstone bag. 

"Leon evidently doesn't think us safe down 
here! You'd better come, too," murmured 
Elizabeth as we went downstairs. 

In the meantime, H. had questioned our 
friend as to what had transpired in Paris within 
the last twenty-foui' hours. 

"England will probably join us — and there 
is every possibility of Italy's remaining 
neutral," he announced, as we made our ap- 
pearance. And then — "You must come to 
Paris. You're too near the front here," he 
continued, as he piled wife, babies and servant 
into the taxi. 

And so, with hardly time for an adieu, the 
motor whisked away as it had come, leaving 
H. and me looking beyond it into the night. 

When I returned to the pantry, I found Nini 
weeping copiously. Imagining she had become 
frightened by the sudden departure of our 
[51] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

friends, I was collecting my wits to console 
and reassure her, when she burst forth, "Oh, 
Madame — Madame — the pates — ^' 

"Well?" 

"The lovely pates! — all burned to cinders! 
Such a waste!" 

In our excitement we had forgotten to take 
from the oven two handsome pates de lievre 
of which I was more than duly proud. And as 
Nini expressed it, they were burned to cinders. 
How H. chuckled at our first domestic 
mishap. 

"Fine cooks, you are," said he, turning to 
Berthe and Nini, who hung their heads and 
blushed crimson. "And it's to you that I'm 
going to entrust Madame when I leave!" 

Tuesday, the fourth, the drum rolled at an 
early hour and the gar de-champ etre announced 
the declaration of war. It was not news to 
anyone, for all had considered the mobilisation 
as the real thing. 

We were breakfasting when we heard a 
strange rumbling up the road. It was such a 
funny noise — midway between that of a steam 
roller and a threshing machine — that we both 
went out towards the lodge to see what was 
[52] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

passing by. We were not a little surprised on 
perceiving our gendarmes sitting in an anti- 
quated motor, whose puffing and wheezing be- 
tokened its age. They stopped when they saw 
us, and after exchanging greetings, laughingly 
poked fun at their vehicle — far less imposing 
than their well-groomed horses, but the only 
thing that could cover between seventy and 
eighty miles a day! From them we learned 
that the mobilisation was being carried out in 
perfection, and in all their tours to outlying 
villages and hamlets not a single delinquent 
had been found — not a single man was miss- 
ing! All had willingly answered the call to 
arms! 

Between the excitement and all the work 
that had to be done at Villiers, time passed 
with phenomenal rapidity. As yet we had 
had no occasion to perceive the lack of mail 
and daily papers, and though I had always 
had a sub-conscious feeling that H. would 
eventually receive his marching orders, it was 
rather a shock when they came. Being in a 
frontier department he was called out earlier 
than expected. And instead of being sent 
around-circuit way to reach his regiment south 
[58] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

of Paris, he was ordered to gain Chateau- 
Thierry at once, and there await instructions. 

Of course I packed and unpacked his bag 
for the twentieth time since Sunday, in the 
hope of finding a tiny space to squeeze in one 
more useful article — and then descending, I 
jumped into the cart and waited for him to 
join me. In spite of the solemnity of the 
moment I couldn't help laughing when he ap- 
peared, for disdaining the immaculate costume 
I had carefully laid out, he had put on a most 
disreputable-looking pair of trousers, and an 
old paint-stained Norfolk jacket. A faded 
flannel shirt and a silk bandanna tied about his 
throat completed this weird accoutrement, 
which was topped by a long-vizored cap and a 
dilapidated canvas gunny sack, the latter but 
half full and slung lightly over one shoulder. 
Anticipating my question, he explained that it 
was useless to throw away a perfectly new suit 
of clothes. When he should receive his uni- 
form, his civilian outfit ought to be put in safe 
keeping for his return. This was customary in 
time of peace, but who could tell? — he might 
never even get a uniform, let alone hoping to 
see the clothes again. 

[54] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

And then, when I began examining the 
paltry contents of his sack, he made light of 
my disappointment, saying that his father, who 
had served in the campaign of 1870, had always 
told him that a ball of strong string and a 
jackknife were sufficient baggage for any 
soldier. I supposed he ought to know, and 
was just going to ask another question, when — 

"Listen," he said, as he put his foot on the 
step. "Listen — before I forget. My will is 
at my notary's in Paris, and on your table is a 
letter to your father — if anything happens to 
me you know what to do." 

We drove away in silence. 

I let the horses walk almost all the way home 
and my thoughts were busy, very busy along 
the way. Here I was alone — husband and 
friends had vanished as by magic. My nearest 
relatives over five thousand miles away — and 
communication with the outside world entirely 
cut off, for Heaven knew how long. Evi- 
dently there was nothing to do but to face the 
situation, especially as all those in my employ 
save Julie were under twenty, and looked to 
me for moral support. This was no time to 
[55] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

collapse. If I broke down anarchy would reign 
at once. 

But what to do? Go on living like a hermit 
on that great big estate? The idea appalled 
me. It seemed such a useless existence — and 
in a few moments' time I had decided to turn 
the place into a hospital. But how and to 
whom should I offer it? 

I stopped at the Gendarmerie, where our 
friends were able to give me information. 

"The nearest sanitary formation was Sois- 
sons — the Red Cross Society. The president 
would probably be able to help me — " So I 
thanked the gendarme and left there, having 
decided to drive thence on the morrow. 

Soissons is but twenty miles as a bird flies, 
but almost double that by the winding road- 
way, and I was calculating what time I should 
start and where I would rest the span, as I 
entered the yard. 

"Anything new, George?" I said, as he took 
the bridle. 

"Nothing, Madame, save that we have re- 
ceived orders that all the horses must be pre- 
sented at Chateau-Thierry for the revision 
to-morrow before ten." 

[56] 



MY HOME IN THE EIELD OF HONOUR 

"All the horses?" 

"Yes, Madame, with full harnessing, halters 
and the farm carts." 

That was a surprise! Suppose they are all 
taken, thought I, I shall be almost a prisoner. 
And my trip to Soissons? 

"Don't unharness!" I called, as George 
drove towards the stable. "I'm going back to 
Charly." 

In our little township I managed to buy a 
lady's bicycle. "It may come in handy," I 
thought. It was the last machine that was left. 
From the shop I went to the hotel. 

"Where's your husband?" I said to the pro- 
prietress. 

"Why, he's gone with the chauffeur to take 
our motorbuses and taxi to the requisition com- 
mittee." 

"What?" 

"Yes, Madame." 

"But I wanted him to motor me over to 
Soissons to-morrow!" 

"Well, if he gets back to-night and they 
leave him a single machine, I'll let you know, 
Madame." 

In the afternoon the drum beat anew and I 
[57] 



MY HOME IN THE PIELD OF HONOUR 

learned that all the bakers in the village (there 
were three of them) having been called to the 
front, we were likely to be without the staff of 
life. In the presence, therefore, of the im- 
pending calamity, the village government had 
decided to take over the bakery — it had found 
an old man and a very young apprentice who 
would do the work, but each citizen was re- 
quested to declare the number of persons com- 
posing his household and in order to economize 
flour, so much bread would be allowed per head 
and each family must come and fetch his supply 
at the town hall between eleven and twelve 
o'clock ! 

Needless to say, it must be paid for in cash, 
though the Board reserved the right to look 
after the village poor. In like manner, all the 
salt had been reserved for the army, and we 
were to be rationed to seventy-five grammes a 
week per person! It all sounded rather ter- 
rible, but when put into practise it was proved 
that the rations were very generous and no 
one had reason to complain. 

By four o'clock the next morning there was 
a perpetual stream of farm carts down the 
road leading towards Chateau-Thierry. I 
[58] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

dressed and went to the stables where George 
and Leon were already harnessing. More than 
once I had a tight feeling in my throat as I 
patted the glossy backs of dear old Cesar and 
my lovely span. 

The girls had decorated the carts with huge 
bunches of poppies, daisies and corn-flowers 
and in addition to these tri-color bouquets, a 
little branch of laurel was stuck up over each 
horse's bridle. There was a generous distri- 
bution of sugar, and each horse was kissed on 
the tip of his nose, and then the boys joined 
the procession on the highroad. 

I watched them out of sight. "Shall we ever 
get through saying 'good-bye'? When will 
these departures cease?" thought I, as I turned 
from the gate. But I was given no time to 
muse, for a most amazing clamor arose from 
a gateway a little higher up the road, and 
glancing in that direction, I saw old father 
Poupard leading his horse and cart into the 
open. He was followed by his wife and 
daughter-in-law, two brawny peasant women, 
who were loudly lamenting the departure of 
their steed! 

"No, no!" literally howled mother Poupard. 
[59] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

"This is the last straw! Both sons gone, and 
now our horse! Who's going to bring in our 
crop? The Lord is unjust." 

"And brother's babies — poor motherless 
things — in an orphan asylum at Epernay! 
How can we get to them now? Oh, no! Oh, 
no — " wailed Julia. 

"Poupard!" exclaimed his wife, drying her 
tears on the corner of her apron and fixing her 
sharp blue eyes on her husband, "Poupard, no 
loitering! If they pay you for your horse, 
remember, no f olishness. You hustle back here 
with the money — we need you to help in the 
vineyard." 

"This is no time for sprees," wept Julia. 

"Father Poupard," admonished his irate 
mate, brandishing a spade, "Father Poupard, 
mind what I say!" 

And then in a more moderate tone, but 
which was distinctly audible some thirty yards 
away, "I've put a bottle into your lunch basket. 
You won't need to buy anything more." 

There was a distinct emphasis on the word 

buy, which told me that mother Poupard, 

evidently accustomed to her husband's ways, 

had provided plentifully for his journey but 

[60] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

had carefully emptied his pockets before he 
started. 

I went back to my preserves, but as the day 
wore on the lack of all communication with the 
outside world began to prey on me. Towards 
four o'clock I took my bicycle and started 
down to Charly. A quarter of a mile from 
our gate, in front of the town hall, a mason 
had driven two huge posts into the ground on 
either side of the road, and was swinging a 
heavy chain between them. 

I looked askance at the schoolmaster who 
stood in the doorway surveying the work. He 
explained that he had received instructions to 
the effect that all passers-by unknown to this 
village were to be stopped and asked for their 
papers. The men and boys who remained were 
to take turns mountin'g guard, and thus to 
help to eradicate the circulation of spies. Two 
suspicious motors and a man on a bicycle had 
already been signalled. Should they appear 
and fail to produce their papers, immediate 
arrest would follow. Should they offer the 
slightest opposition or attempt escape, the sen- 
tinels had orders to shoot. 

I enquired if it would be necessary for me 
[61] 



MY HOME IN THE EIELD OF HONOUR 

to have a sauf -conduit, being bound for Charly, 
and possibly the station at Nogent, where I 
hoped that the soldiers of a passing train would 
throw me a newspaper. 

Mr. Duguey replied that he would gladly 
present me with the first passport, and seemed 
wonderfully taken with my idea about the 
papers. He admitted that living in darkness 
was beginning to get on his nerves, too, and 
asked me, in case my plan should prove suc- 
cessful, if I would be willing to put it on the 
public sign board so all could see the news. I 
acquiesced willingly, and after he had asked a 
few questions as to names, age, characteristics 
and destination, he stamped the seal on my 
paper, and I departed. 

At Charly the same preparations had been 
made, and two elderly men, leaning on their 
guns, smiled as I presented my paper for their 
inspection. 

At the hotel, the proprietor had just re- 
turned after having waited nearly twenty-four 
hours in line to present his machines. All 
save one had been bought for the army. But 
with his double-seated taxi he promised to drive 
me to Soissons the following morning. 
[62] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

I continued my road, and reached Nogent 
to find that I was not alone in my idea about 
begging the papers. Several others from 
neighboring villages, so I heard, had already 
succeeded in obtaining a sheet, and had driven 
off hastily with their trophies. My proceeding 
was very simple. It consisted of crossing the 
rails to the up-train platform, to stand in line 
with the other women already assembled, there 
to wait like birds on a fence until a train coming 
from Paris passed by. Then as it whizzed 
through the station, we shouted in chorus, ''Les 
journauoc! Les jour-nauoor 

It worked like magic. We had hardly been 
there two minutes when a train was signalled. 
As it approached, we could see that engine 
and cars were decorated with garlands of 
flowers, and trailing vines, while such inscrip- 
tions as, ''Train de Plaisir pour Berlin" and 
numerous caricatures had been chalked on the 
varnished sides of the carriages. 

Our appeals were not in vain. With joyful 
shouts, the boys gladly threw us the papers 
which were welcomed like the rain of manna 
in the desert. I managed to collect two, 
U Action Franfoise, and Le Bonnet Rouge, 
[63] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

Until others and fresher were procured, the 
Royahst and the Revolutionary sheets hung 
side by side on the public sign board at Villiers, 
proving that under the Third Republic, 
Liberie, Egalite, Fraternite are not vain words. 

The news of the violation of Luxembourg 
and Belgian territory created less sensation 
than one might have expected. In the circum- 
stances news of any kind seemed a blessing. 

There was still quite a gathering in front of 
the town hall when the first carts began to 
return from the revision. They were few and 
far between, compared with the double line that 
had driven past in the morning. My heart 
leapt with joy, as I saw George, driving Cesar, 
turn into the court. 

"Too old, Madame," he said, his eyes shin- 
ing. "Though still so game that they nearly 
kept him. He's reserved for a second call." 

"And Florentin and Cognac?" 

The boy put his hand into his pocket and 
held out a shp of paper. I took it and read, 
^'Bon pour 1^00 francs, prix de 2 chevauoo, 
etcr 

"Well, thank God, we've got one left any- 
how," thought I as I entered the hall. 
[64] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

Just then the gate creaked and I could 
vaguely distinguish in the deepening twilight 
the forms of mother Poupard and Julia hurry- 
ing towards the stables. I followed. 

"George! George !" called Julia. 

"Well?" came the answer from within. 

"George — where's the old man?" queried 
mother Poupard in excited tones. 

"How do I know?" 

"Was our horse taken? Can you tell us 
that?" 

"I think so; yes." 

"Then why didn't Poupard come back with 
you and Leon in the cart? Did you see him? 

"Yes." 

"Where was he?" 

"In front of a cafe — as we drove past." 

"Oh, the old villain! The wretch! Oh, mon 
Dieu, what shall we do! Oh, the wicked old 
man — if I had him here, I'd thrash him 
good!" 

And mother Poupard began brandishing a 
pitch-fork with such violence that I commenced 
to fear that failing her delinquent spouse, she 
would fall upon George to wreak vengeance. 

"Oh, the old devil! Oh—" 
[65] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

"Look here, I'm not his nurse — ^now clear 
out, the lot of you!" 

The injunction served its purpose, for re- 
membering they were "not at home," the two 
women retired in high dudgeon, wailing and 
lamenting in such audible tones that their 
neighbours came out to see what was the 
matter, and laughed at mother Poupard's 
threat of what she would do if ever she got 
le vieuo) into her clutches. 

By six A. M. on the Friday I had break- 
fasted and was ready to leave for Soissons. 
The taxi from the Hotel du Balcon made its 
appearance a few moments later, and after a 
visit to the town hall, where we secured the 
necessary passports, we set off on our journey. 

At the entrance to every little village we 
were obliged to halt and exhibit our papers — 
after which formality the chain would be let 
down and we allowed to go our way. 

Half an hour later as we crossed Chateau- 
Thierry we could see the rows of horses that 
had not yet been examined lined up along the 
square. The commissaries had worked all 
night and their task was still far from fin- 
ished. 

[66] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

Until we reached Oulchy-le-Chateau, the 
chains were the only outward signs that be- 
tokened the belligerent state of the country, 
and even then as those who mounted guard 
were not in uniform, it seemed rather as though 
we were passing a series of toll-gates. How- 
ever, as we ran along the splendid roads be- 
tween the great fertile plains, I observed that 
the harvesting was being done chiefly by 
women, and that the roads themselves were 
empty of any vehicle. Evidently only those 
who had an important errand were allowed on 
the routes nationales, thus kept clear for the 
transport of troops or ammunition. 

At Oulchy, half-way to Soissons, we halted 
at a railway crossing to let a long, lazy train 
drag out of the station. When at length the 
bars were drawn up, much excitement reigned 
on the little platform which we had been un- 
able to see from the other side of the rails. 
Young girls with pails and dippers in their 
hands stood chattering with women in wrap- 
pers, whose dishevelled appearance told plainly 
that they had been hastily awakened and had 
hurried thence without thinking of their 
toilette, 

[67] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

"What is it?" I asked of the garde-harriere, 

"Wounded!" 

"Wounded?" 

"Yes — the first. Not badly wounded and 
they are able to travel, but unable to hold a gun. 
And they were all so thirsty!" 

Poor fellows, thought I, already out of the 
ranks and the first week is not yet passed. 

More persuaded than ever of the utility of 
my mission, I did not stop longer but pushed 
on towards Soissons. Half a mile further up 
the road, an elderly man carrjdng a package, 
hailed the motor. We slowed down, and hat 
in hand he approached. 

"I beg pardon for the liberty I'm taking," 
he said, "but might I ask where you're bound?" 

"Soissons." 

"You would be rendering a great service to 
the municipality if you would allow me to ride 
with you in the empty seat. You see, the 
youngsters who are left to reap the crops have 
broken the only machine in the community, 
and we can't go on harvesting until it is re- 
paired or replaced. There are no mechanics 
left, and moreover, no horses that could take 
us to Soissons to find one, so I've offered to go 
[68] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

on foot — but that means at least two full days 
lost before we can continue our work." 

"Get in at once," I said, and we rolled off. 

It was not long before I had drawn his his- 
tory from this village alderman, an Alsatian 
by birth, and his tales of the war of 1870 
helped to wile away the time we were obliged 
to spend idling along the roadside while our 
chauffeur repaired our first puncture. The 
emergency wheel clapped on, we were soon en 
route again. My companion duly uncovered 
as we passed the monument to the soldiers of 
the Franco-Prussian War, almost hidden in a 
lovely chestnut grove, in the heart of the forest 
of Hartennes. 

On the outskirts of Soissons we came upon a 
squadron of the Ninth Territorial Regiment, 
resting after the morning exercises. These 
soldiers much resembled the "bushy-bearded" 
creatures whom I had seen guarding the 
Eastern Railway, save that they were even 
more picturesque, for most of them wore straw 
sombreros. As we passed the captain on his 
horse, my companion lifted his hat and the 
officer replied with a salute. 

"A friend of yours?" I ventured. 
[69] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

"No. Never saw him before." 

"But you bowed, I thought." 

"Certainly. He's an officer on duty in time 
of war, and all civilians owe him that courtesy." 

I liked that and fancied it were old-time 
urbanity, though often since I have seen it 
proved that the custom is not obsolete. 

A little further on we came to a very jolly 
squadron, the cooks, who were peeling fresh 
vegetables and pouring them into immense 
wash-boilers, which, when filled, two privates 
seized by the handles and carried towards a 
big barracks some hundred yards distant. 

Presently we hit a cobbled road which must 
have been a joy to all heavy machines, but 
which nearly jolted us out of our light vehicle. 
Patience and good humour were very rapidly 
disappearing when we rounded a curve, struck 
the good macadam, and I saw the twin spires 
of St. Jean rising majestically against the 
clear blue summer sky. 

At our right I noticed the entrance gate to 
a chateau over which hung a big Red Cross, 
such as I coveted for my home, and then in a 
moment we were already in a faubourg of 
Soissons. It was not unlike the entrance to 
[70] 






'•^ V 






\ ^- 



^ 1^ v^ " 



WE DROVE THROUGH THE QUAINT LITTLE CITY 
[Page 75] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

any other provincial city in ordinary times, 
save that there were many red-trousered men 
mixed in with the other population. There 
were no chains across the road, but four soldiers 
in uniform mounted guard. We showed patte 
blanche and proceeded to ask for the Red 
Cross headquarters. 

* 'Madame Macherez is the president. You 
must go to her. Cross the city and go out 
east towards St. Paul. Her chateau is 
there." 

Naturally we headed straight for our desti- 
nation, but were stopped every other minute 
by police who side-tracked us into back streets. 
The big thoroughfares must be kept clear for 
the army! 

I set down my old friend near the town hall, 
and told him that I should be returning about 
noon. If he were ready, I would be glad to 
give him a lift. Would he meet us in front 
of the Hotel du Soleil dfOr? 

He was delighted, and promised to be on 
time. 

We crossed the Aisne; I must say rather 
heedlessly, little dreaming that in so short a 
time it would be the object of such desperate 
[71] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

and bloody disputes — nor so historically 
famous. 

The Chateau de St. Paul sits, or rather, sat 
back from the road, surrounded by its lovely 
garden and a high wall. I left my motor and 
entered the grounds, preceded by a servant 
who had opened the gate. In a small drawing- 
room I presented myself to a very charming 
young person already installed behind a desk, 
though it was scarcely half -past eight, and ex- 
plained the object of my visit. 

"Madame Macherez will be delighted. I'm 
her secretary, and I can assure you she will do 
all she can to further your plans. Would you 
mind waiting just a few moments? She'll be 
down presently. You see," she continued, "we 
have been up all night. We suddenly had part 
of a regiment quartered on us, and the officers 
who slept here were coming and going most 
of the time. I beg you will excuse the dust, 
but they haven't been gone long enough for us 
to make things tidy. There were twenty here, 
and two hundred men in the outbuildings — 
which makes quite a remue menage" 

Just then the president of the Association 
des Dames Franpaises came in. 
[72] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

Madame Macherez, a fine looking, elderly 
woman with iron-grey hair and clear blue eyes, 
is the widow of former Senator Macherez. Her 
keen understanding and wonderful business 
ability have won her the respect and esteem of 
two entire nations; both friend and enemy are 
united in their praises of this wonderful 
person. 

I was not long in explaining my intentions 
— I could supply sixty beds, with room for 
the double ; would take all the management of a 
hospital, gladly help with the nursing, but must 
have a doctor and other professional aid. 

Madame Macherez accepted my proposition, 
knew just the person I needed, and taking off 
her badge pinned it on to the lapel of my coat 
and made me a member of her society. 

"Now, then, let's get through with the 
formalities at once. Here is your carte 
d'identite. You must paste your photo on to it. 
With that and an armlet stamped from the 
War Department you will have free access to 
all the roads and you won't have to be bothered 
with other papers. Let us go at once to the 
city hall, where they will stamp their seal on 
your card, which makes it valid for your iden- 
[73] 



MY HOME IN THE EIELD OF HONOUR 

tity. From there we must himt out the colonel 
in command and get his seal. That makes it 
valid with military authorities." 

The president's motor was waiting outside 
the door. 

"How long shall we be?" 

"Ah, an hour at least." 

I turned to my chauffeur who was tampering 
with his punctured tire. 

"Go and see if you can't find a new inner 
tube, and meet me at the Hotel du Soleil dfOr 
where I will lunch, at eleven." 

"But I just put in a new inner tube." 

"Have you got an extra one?" 

"No, but I've my emergency wheel — " 

"Never mind. Another inner tube may come 
in handy." 

"Very well, Madame." 

Madame Macherez was waiting, so I jumped 
in next her and we drove to the town hall. 
Though the war was scarcely a week old her 
office was already installed in the Hotel de 
Ville, and several hospitals were well on the 
way towards complete organization. In a big 
room white-capped women (the first I had seen 
of the kind) were counting bandages, linen 
[74] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

and underclothing, laying out huge piles for 
such and such a hospital. 

While Madame M. was answering numerous 
questions which besieged her on her entrance, 
her secretary took note of what was lacking 
in my amhnlance, promised to forward it at 
once by motor, and gave me an agreement to 
sign. 

In the meantime, someone had carried my 
card to the mayor who affixed his seal, and my 
armlet appeared as though by magic. 

Now, then, for the colonel! And we 
hastened away again at a moment's notice. 

As we drove through the quaint little city, 
my eye was attracted more than once by a 
splendid bit of Louis XIV architecture. The 
college, the convent, the churches and even 
some private residences were wonderful exam- 
ples of that exquisitely decorative period. As 
it was my first visit to Soissons I regretted 
not having brought my kodak, but when I 
spoke of this to Madame Macherez she ex- 
pressed her delight at my admiration of her 
native city, but was extremely glad that I had 
not ventured out alone with a camera. Un- 
known persons with photographic parapher- 
[75] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

nalia were suspicious these times. It was best 
to leave such things at home. 

Just then we were winding up a narrow 
street and the chauffeur was tooting in vain, 
trying to persuade a half-dozen soldiers carry- 
ing bales of hay on their backs, to make room 
for us to get by. With much evident reluct- 
ance the first man drew a bit to the right, the 
second vociferated something in a picturesque 
patois, and just as we passed the third, I 
leaned forward and grabbed the driver by the 
collar. 

"Stop, stop a minute!" I gasped. 

He must have thought I was mad, and 
Madame M. probably imagined I had suddenly 
lost my wits, when she saw me plunge out of 
the motor, race towards one of the bales, tear 
it from the carrier's back with a violence that 
nearly upset the man, and then, throwing my 
arms about his neck, embrace him. 

''You? Already?" gasped H., and then as 
we realized that we were making a public spec- 
tacle of ourselves, the color rose to our 
cheeks. 

A hasty explanation followed, in which I 
told my plans. 

[76] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

"And you, what on earth are you doing 
here?" I questioned. 

"Well — just what you see. All of us from 
Villiers have been sent to bring horses to the 
front, and a fine job it is. I wish you could 
see the nags! None of them rideable!" 

"But after they're delivered — what?" 

"I wish I knew myself." 

"And when can we meet?" 

"I'm afraid that's impossible. We're off 
again to-night for — God knows where!" 

And H. seeing that he was already far be- 
hind his companions, threw me a hasty adieu 
and was gone ! 

The colonel was absent, but would return 
tout de suite, and Madame Macherez and I 
lost nearly an hour waiting. When he ap- 
peared, however, he was most gracious, ex- 
cused himself very politely and immediately 
stamped my card. Then having all the neces- 
sary papers, I begged Madame to drop me 
at the hotel, and to return to her bureau, 
where I knew there was work enough for a 
half-dozen such as she. She did as I requested, 
and we parted — she promising to visit Villiers 
as soon as she could dispose of an afternoon. 
[77] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

I was the only woman in the hotel dining- 
room for Imieheon. The food was good, but 
the service impossible, as there were some forty 
men, mostly officers, very hungry, and only 
one decrepit waiter to do the work. Good 
humour prevailed, each diner making allow- 
ances, and here for the first time I heard that 
expression, destined to become so popular as 
an excuse for almost anything: C'est la 
gueire! 

My chauffeur kept me waiting, but my 
friend the alderman was on time. Finally the 
motor made its appearance. Something had 
happened on leaving St. Paul in the morning 
and the poor hotelier had searched the entire 
city for a mechanic, but to no avail. All 
were au service de Varmee, Finally he had 
had to patch up things as best he could. As to 
an extra inner tube — such a thing didn't exist. 
We would have to take our chances with the 
wheel he had. 

We started, but hadn't gone two hundred 
yards when a back tire blew off! 

Well, thank goodness, we hadn't left town. 
So I returned to the hotel, and while Huber- 
son and the alderman were fixing up damages 
[78] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

and adjusting the emergency wheel, I had 
time to read all the back numbers of Illustra- 
tion, which the Soleil d'Or possessed, and 
commence a conversation with the proprietress, 
who sat in the court shelling peas for dinner. 
She was certain that the war would be over in 
three months at the utmost ! 

At length I went out to see if I couldn't be 
of some assistance in the motor business, but 
Huberson said it would be ready in a few 
moments. As far as I could make out, my 
alderman friend was mostly a decorative per- 
sonality, for he stood there with his hat on the 
back of his head, gesticulating vehemently, but 
never deigning to help my chauffeur in the 
shghtest manner. When I asked him if he 
knew Soissons well and inquired if he could 
direct me to certain grocers where I could 
perhaps obtain a few provisions, he insisted 
on showing me the shops, with an alacrity 
which proved his incompetence at motor 
repairing. 

During that short promenade on foot, we 
encountered the whole Ninth Territorial Regi- 
ment — not under arms but au repos. The 
men were seated in front of the barracks read- 
[79] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

ing the papers or idly smoking their pipes, and 
all yearning for "something to do." Their 
wish, I fear, has been more than satisfied. 

Start number two proved successful and we 
sped along very comfortably until we hit that 
long cobbled road. The day was exceedingly 
warm, the stones sun-baked, and after the first 
mile or so I saw Huberson looking nervously 
at his fore wheel. His anxiety was well 
founded, for half a minute later, whizz! — I 
could feel the rubber splitting! 

We stopped and all climbed out. 

"It's all up!" he exclaimed. "Not one — but 
two tires are burst, and the shoe of the 
emergency wheel is flapping like an old dirty 
rag!" 

"Now, in my time — " began the alderman. 

"Never mind about your time, old man. If 
you want to get back to Oulchy and that mow- 
ing machine before Christmas, you've got to 
pitch in and help," cut in Huberson, whose 
nerves could no longer stand the strain. Our 
friend took the hint and began stripping off his 
coat. We were eight miles from Soissons, on 
the upgrade of a cobbled road, full in the sun. 
It was three P. M. on a stifling August day! 
[80] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

The men must have spent an hour trying to 
make impossible repairs — they knew it was no 
use walking back to Soissons where aid had 
already been refused, and it was evident from 
the condition of the tubes that there was no 
hope of mending them. 

What to do? 

"I'll tell you," said I (and I must admit 
that I spoke for the sake of saying something) , 
"I'll tell you! Suppose you take out the inner 
tubes and stuff the shoes with grass !" 

The men looked at me as if I had suddenly 
gone out of my mind. Their contempt was so 
apparent that it wilted me. 

"Yes — I'm serious." 

And then arose a series of protestations 
which common sense bade me heed, but which 
didn't advance our cause in the slightest. 
When we had lost a full half-^hour more 
arguing the question, I once again proclaimed 
my original idea. 

The driver glanced at me in despair and 
shrugged his shoulders. "The least we can 
do is try." 

So saying, we fell to work tearing up grass 
and weeds. And that is how I came to ride 
[81] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

over thirty miles on three grass-stuffed tires, 
which, thanks to the heat, towards the end of 
the journey began sending forth httle jets of 
green Hquid much to the astonishment of all 
those who saw us pass. 



[82] 



Ill 



The next few days following my eventful 
trip to Soissons were spent superintending the 
installation of my hospital. For convenience's 
sake I decided to utilize the entire ground floor, 
first because there were fewer and more 
spacious apartments, each one being large 
enough to hold ten or twelve beds, thus form- 
ing a ward ; second, because it would be better 
to avoid carrying the wounded up a flight of 
stairs. The rooms above could be used in case 
of emergency. All this of course necessitated 
the moving of most of my furniture and oh jets 
d'art, as well as the emptying of H.'s much- 
encumbered studio — I having determined to 
keep but a small apartment in the east wing 
for private use. It was really a tremendous 
undertaking, far worse than any "spring clean- 
ing" I had ever experienced, especially as I 
was but poorly seconded by my much-depleted 
domestic staff, already more than busy trying 
to keep the farm going. 

From the boys — George and Leon — I 
[83] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

learned that old father Poupard had not yet 
put in his appearance since his departure three 
days before with his nag, and that mother 
Poupard had abandoned her belligerent atti- 
tude and had resorted to tears. She could be 
seen three times a day, on her return from the 
fields, standing by the bridge corner, wailing 
her distress to any passerby who had time 
enough to stop and listen. Poupard now pos- 
sessed all the qualities of mankind and it was 
probably through his noble soft-heartedness 
that some ill had befallen him. What a mis- 
fortune, especially as the vines needed so much 
attention. 

Sunday, the ninth, I was preparing to go 
to early service at Charly (our own curate 
had been called to join his regiment) when on 
crossing the bridge, a bicycle whisked by the 
victoria. 

"He's coming — he's coming!" called the 
rider, as he passed us. 

"Who?" I said, rising, as George drew up. 

"Father Poupard!" called the boy. "I'm 
going to tell his wife !" 

It was evident that the news had spread like 
wildfire, for looking up the street, I could see 
[84] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

the villagers hurrying from their cottages. Al- 
ready the hum of voices reached my ears, and 
anxious not to miss what promised to be a 
most dramatic meeting, I told George to drive 
to one side of the road and stop, and there we 
would await developments. 

In less than a minute mother Poupard 
appeared. She was as good as her word, for 
now that she knew her lord and master was 
no longer in danger, she had cast sentiment to 
the winds and was actually brandishing that 
"big stick!" 

"Ah, the good-for-nothing old drunkard!" 
she vociferated as she ran. "Just let me lay 
hands on him!" 

Around the bend of the road came the ex- 
cited peasants. They pressed so closely about 
someone that until they were almost upon us 
I could not distinguish who it might be. Then 
as mother Poupard pushed her way through 
the crowd, it parted and displayed her hus- 
band ; drunk, but with pride ; delirious, but with 
glory — proudly bearing his youngest grand- 
son in his arms, leading the other by the hand. 

"Oh, Joseph — " gasped his astonished wife, 
every bit of anger gone from her voice. 
[85], 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

And then followed a very touching family 
scene, in which the delinquent was forgiven, 
and during which time one of the bystanders 
explained that father Poupard had walked 
from Chateau-Thierry to Epernay, to fetch 
his orphan grandchildren, and had returned on 
foot, carrying first one and then the other — 
accomplishing the hundred miles in not quite 
four days! A heroic undertaking for a man 
over seventy! 

The sun rose and set several times ere my 
interior arrangements were completed and 
nothing extraordinary happened to break the 
monotony of my new routine. On Tuesday, 
the eleventh, the strange buzzing of a motor 
told us that an aeroplane was not far distant. 
Our chateau lies in the valley between two hills, 
so to obtain a clear view of the horizon, I hur- 
ried to the roof with a pair of field glasses. 

Presently a tiny black speck appeared and as 
it grew within the scope of my glass, it was 
easy to recognize the shape of a Taube. 
That was my introduction to the enemy. 

Without waiting a second I rushed to the 
telephone and asked central at Charly (the 
telephones now belonged to the army) to pass 
[86] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

on the message that a German aeroplane had 
been sighted from the Chateau de Vilhers, and 
was flying due west, head on for Paris. The 
noise had grown louder and louder, and when 
I returned to my post of observation, I found 
most of the servants assembled, all craning 
their necks. On came the Taube, and there 
we stood, gaping, never realizing an instant 
that we were running the slightest risk. The 
machine passed directly over our heads, not 
low enough, however, for us to distinguish 
its contents with the naked eye. 

"There's another!" shouted someone. And 
turning our backs on the enemy, we gave our 
entire attention to a second speck that had 
suddenly risen on the horizon. 

It was four o'clock in the afternoon and 
the armoured head of the ever-on-coming aero- 
plane glittered splendidly in the golden rays 
of the afternoon sun. 

''C'est un franpaisr cried George. 

''Nonr 

''Ouir 

Allowing that an aeroplane flies at the rate 
of a mile a minute, one can easily imagine 
that we had not long to wait before number two 
[87] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

sped over us. Through my glass I was able to 
recognize the tri-color cockade painted under- 
neath the plane, and when I announced this 
there went up a wild shriek of joy. 

At that moment a loud report in the west 
announced that the Germans had begun their 
deadly work on undefended territory, 

"That's a bomb for the railway crossing at 
Nanteuil, I'll bet!" said Leon, and while I was 
reahzing that that projectile might just as well 
have been for us, the others were gesticulating 
and howling encouragement to their compa- 
triot some few hundred yards above them, as 
though he could hear every word they said: 

"Go it, old man!" "Bring down that cursed 
blackbird!" ''Vive la FranceT and other 
similar ejaculations were drowned by the noise 
of the motor. 

The chase was on! It was more exciting 
than any horserace I ever witnessed. The 
Frenchman was rapidly gaining on the other, 
but would they come into combat before they 
vanished from our horizon? That was the 
question that filled us with anguish. 

On, on they sped, growing smaller and 
smaller every second. Presently it became im- 
[88] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

possible to distinguish them apart, but we knew 
that they had come within range of each other, 
for the two specks rose and fell by turns — 
now soaring high, now dipping precipitately, 
seeming almost to touch at times. Then, just 
as they were about to disappear, one of them 
suddenly collapsed and fell! Which one, we 
never knew. 

Towards dusk the garde-champetre ap- 
peared and left orders that George and Leon 
must take their turns at mounting guard. 
Four hours right out of the sleep of a peasant 
boy especially when he is overworked, is likely 
to leave him useless the next day. It pro- 
voked me a little, but then it was duty and 
they must obey. The boys came on at eleven 
and having decided it would be better to get in 
an hour or so of rest beforehand, they retired 
to the hay loft. I promised to look in on them 
in case they should fail to waken, and at the 
appointed time I put on my sweater and went 
down to find, as I had expected, both youths 
slumbering peacefully, blissfulty unconscious 
of the time. Poor little chaps, it seemed a pity 
to wake them, but what was to be done? 
Presently an idea of replacing them myself 
[89] 



MY HOME IN THE EIELD OF HONOUR 

dawned upon me : a second later it so enchanted 
me that I wouldn't have had them wake for 
anything. The whole thing was beginning to 
be terribly romantic. 

Slipping quietly away, I went to my room 
and got my revolver, and then going to the 
south front of the chateau, I softly whistled 
for my dogs. Three big greyhounds, a shep- 
herd dog and a setter responded immediately, 
and just as I was about to shut the little 
yellow door, old Betsy, my favorite Boston 
bull, came pantiug around the corner of the 
house. With these five as bodyguard I saun- 
tered up the road in the brilliant moonlight, 
arriving in front of the town hall just as the 
clock was striking eleven. I must say that my 
appearance and announcement rather shocked 
two elderly men who had been on the watch 
since seven o'clock. 

Monsieur Demarcq protested that such a 
thing as a woman mounting guard had never 
been heard of, but I swiftly argued him out of 
that idea. What was required of me ? That I 
stop every passer-by and every vehicle ? Didn't 
he think me capable of doing so? And I 
pointed to my dogs and my revolver. The 
[90] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

weight of the argument was so evidently on 
my side that they had nothing to do but to 
submit, and laughingly Mr. Foeter put me 
in possession of a heavy old gun, three pack- 
ages of cartridges, and the lantern. Then 
once again they asked if I couldn't be dis- 
suaded, to which I jokingly replied that I 
would set my dogs after them and drive them 
home if they didn't make haste to go there at 
once. That admonition proved more effica- 
cious than I had dared hope, and assured me 
that my faithful beasts rejoiced in a ferocious 
reputation. 

All sorts of fantastic ideas flitted through 
my brain as I took possession of my post. I 
began, however, by setting the lantern in the 
middle of the road, exactly in the centre of 
the chain, as a warning to any oncomer. Then 
by the moonlight, I proceeded to exaniine my 
gun. It was a very primitive arm, and after 
carefully weighing it in my hands, I decided 
to abandon all thought of stalking up and 
down the road with such an implement on 
my shoulder. That kind of glory was not 
worth the morrow's ache, so I deposited 
the antiquated weapon in the hallway of 
[91] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

the school house and resolved to rely on my 
Browning. 

Afterwards I came out and seating myself 
on the bench with my back against the wall, 
waited for something to happen. My dogs 
seemed to have comprehended the gravity of 
my mission, and crouched close to my feet, 
cocking their ears at the slightest sound. 

Little by little the great harvest moon 
climbed high behind our old Roman church, 
perched on the embankment opposite, bathing 
everything in molten silver, and causing the 
tall pine-trees in the little cemetery adjacent 
to cast long black shadows on the road. Down 
towards the Marne, the frogs were croaking 
merrily — somewhere in the distance a night 
locust buzzed, and alarmed by the striking of 
midnight the owls who nested in the belfry, 
fluttered out into the night and settling on the 
church top, began their plaintive hooting. 
Still no one passed. 

Such calm reigned that it was almost im- 
possible to believe that over there, beyond those 
distant hills, battle and slaughter were prob- 
ably raging. 

Presently a shiver warned me that I had 
[92] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

been seated long enough; so, marking a hun- 
dred steps, I began to pace slowly up and 
down, watching the ever-changing firmament. 
The first grey streaks of dawn were beginning 
to lighten the east when a growl from Tiger 
made me face about very abruptly. I must 
admit that my heart began beating abnormally, 
and the hand in my pocket gripped my revolver 
as though it were a live animal and likely to 
escape. 

A second later all the dogs repeated the 
growl, and then I could hear the clicking of a 
pair of sabots on the road. The noise ap- 
proached, and my guardians looked towards 
me, every muscle in their bodies straining, 
waiting for the single word, '"ApporteT 

''Couchezr I hissed, and awaited develop- 
ments. 

The footsteps drew nearer and nearer, and 
in a moment the stooping figure of an old 
peasant came over the brow of the hill. The 
gait was too familiar to be mistaken. But 
what on earth was father Poupard doing on 
the highroad at that hour? 

When he was within speaking distance I 
came out from the shadow of the wall and put 
[93] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

the question. If he had suddenly been eon- 
fronted with a spook I do not think the old 
man could have been more astonished. He 
stopped dead still, as though not knowing 
whether to turn about and run, or to advance 
and take the consequences. Realizing his em- 
barrassment, I hastily proffered a few words 
of greeting, and then he chose the latter 
prerogative. 

''Vous?" he said, when at length he found 
his tongue. ''Vous?'' 

"Yes— why not?" 

"Who's with you?" 

"Nobody. Why?" 

He seemed more embarrassed than ever. 
Evidently he hadn't yet "caught on." 

"What can I do for you?" I continued. 

He still hesitated, looking first at me and 
then at a bottle he carried in his hand. Finally 
he resolved to make a clean breast of it. 

"Why," he said, "I didn't expect to find a 
woman here, least of all une chatelaine. It 
rather startled me ! You see, I've got into the 
habit of coming round towards dawn. The 
boys begin to get chilly about that time, and 
are glad enough to have a go at my fruit 
[94] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

brandy. They say I'm too old to mount guard, 
so I must serve my country as best I can. 
Will you have some — ^my own brew?" 

I declined, but he was not offended; yet he 
seemed reluctant to go. 

"Sit down," I said. "It won't be long before 
some of the men will be passing by on their 
way to the fields, and then you won't have 
made your journey for nothing." 

Pere Poupard gladly accepted, and after a 
generous swig at his brandy, began telling me 
about what happened at Villiers during the 
German invasion in 1870. As he talked on, 
night gradually disappeared, and when the 
clock in the belfry tolled three A. M. my suc- 
cessors came to relieve me. I blew out the 
lantern and walked home in broad daylight. 

The boys looked very sheepish when they 
heard what had happened, but as I did not 
boast of my exploit, merely taking it as a 
matter of course, they had no way of approach- 
ing the subject, and like many other things of 
the kind, it was soon forgotten in the pursuing 
of our onerous daily tasks, and the moral anx- 
iety we were experiencing. 

There seemed to be no end to the fruit season 
[95] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

that summer. The lengthy table in the ser- 
vants' hall was literally covered with glasses 
containing jam and jelly of every description, 
awaiting their paper lids. Nini said there were 
over five hmidred — to me it seemed thousands, 
and I was heartily glad of a lull before the hos- 
pital should open. And I remember distinctly 
that the last thing I prepared was some thirty 
quarts of black currant brandy ; that is to say, 
I had poured the raw alcohol on to the fruit 
and set the jars aside to await completion — 
six months later! Shortly afterwards I re- 
ceived word by a roundabout route from 
Soissons that I might expect my trained nurses 
and supplies at any moment. In the meantime 
I was without word from H. since that event- 
ful meeting a week before. 

Saturday, the fifteenth of August, was as 
little like a religious fete day as one can 
imagine. At an early hour the winnowing 
machine rumbled up the road to the square 
beside the chateau. Under the circumstances 
each one must take his turn at getting in his 
wheat and oats, and there was no choice of 
day or hour. Besides, the village had already 
been called on to furnish grain and fodder for 
[96] 




p 



/ V 



fSk^ 




€ 1^ 




ONE BY ONE THE TOWNS AND VILLAGES HAl> BEEN 
BOMBARDED, LOOTED AND BURNED [Page 126J 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

the army, and the harvest must be measured 
and declared at once. This only half con- 
cerned me, for my hay was already in the lofts 
before the war began, and two elderly men 
who had applied for work as bunchers, had 
been engaged for the last week in August. 

After service at Charly, I walked across to 
the post office. The post mistress and tele- 
graph operator, a delightful provincial maiden 
lady, always welcomes me most cordially, 
and at present I fancied she might have 
some news that had not yet reached Villiers. 
(Mind you, since the second of August we 
had had but two newspapers, and those ob- 
tained with what difficulty!) The bureau now 
belonged to the army, and for a fortnight 
Mademoiselle Maupoix and her two young girl 
assistants had hardly had time to sleep, so busy 
were they transmitting ciphered dispatches, 
passing on orders, etc. It was to this physical 
exhaustion that I attributed the swollen coun- 
tenance of my little friend when she opened 
the door to her private sitting-room. It was 
evident she had something to tell, but her ex- 
quisite breeding forbade that she go headlong 
into her subject, before having graciously in- 
[97] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

quired for my health, my husband and news 
of us both since last we met. 

"And the war, Mademoiselle, do you know 
anything about what has happened*? ' 

Two great tears swelled to Mademoiselle's 
eyes, which, however, bore a triumphant ex- 
pression. 

"Madame — the French flag is flying over 
Mulhouse — but it cost fifteen thousand lives! 
That is official news. I cannot give you fur- 
ther details nor say how I obtained what I 
have told you." 

Then the armies had met and war was now 
a bloody reality! 

I shuddered. Here was news of a victory 
and all we could do was weep! Once again 
the sons of France had generously shed their 
blood to reconquer their righteous belongings ! 

I left Mademoiselle and rode home in silence. 
Should I tell the villagers? Why not? But 
how — 

The question answered itself, for as we ap- 
proached the town hall I saw the school master 
and a number of elderly men seated on the 
bench beside the chain. When we pulled up 
to give Cesar breathing spell, they all came 
[98] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

clustering around the carriage. Did I know 
anything? Had I heard anything? 

"Gentlemen," I said, with a decided huski- 
ness in my throat, "the French flag flies over 
Mulhouse, but fifteen thousand men are hors 
de comhatr 

Joy, followed almost instantaneously by an 
expression of sorrow, literally transfigured all 
their faces. Tears sprang to the eyes of several, 
falling silently down their furrowed cheeks, 
and without uttering a word, as one man they 
all uncovered! The respect for the glorious 
dead immediately abolished any desire for 
boisterous triumph. 

There was no necessity to add any comment, 
so I continued my route to the chateau. 

One night towards the end of the following 
week, I was awakened by the banging of doors 
and the shattering of window panes. A violent 
storm had suddenly blown up and the wind 
was working havoc with unfastened blinds and 
shutters. There was no use thinking of hold- 
ing a candle or a lamp. Besides, the lightning 
flashed so brightly that I was able to grope 
my way through the long line of empty rooms, 
[99] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

tighten the fastenings, and shut the windows. 
I had reached the second story without mishap 
and without hearing the shghtest footstep 
within doors. All my little servants were so 
exhausted that even the thunder had not roused 
them. Presently, however, the sound of the 
gate bell broke on my ears. 

"Pooh," thought I. "Some tree or branch 
has fallen on the wire. Catch me getting wet 
going out to see what it is." 

The ringing continued, but more violently 
and at regular intervals. I went down to the 
middle window and stuck my head out. At 
the same moment, my dogs made one wild rush 
towards the gate and a woman's voice called, 
^'Madame Huard, ouvrez, s'il vous plaitr 

By the light of another flash, I could dis- 
tinguish a dripping figure in white. "Bah! 
someone is ill or dying and wants me to tele- 
phone for a doctor!" 

So I pulled the bell communicating with 
the servants' quarters, threw on a few warmer 
clothes, and went below. At the foot of the 
stairs I came upon George and Leon much 
dishevelled, but wide awake. 

"There is someone in distress at the gate," 
[100] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

I hurriedly explained. "Call off the dogs and 
go and see who it is. I'll light up in the 
refectory and wait for you there." 

They obeyed, and in the course of three or 
four minutes returned, bringing with them a 
much-bedraggled but smiling woman on whose 
coat was pinned the Red Cross medal. 

"I'm the trained nurse. Madame Macherez 
sent me here to help with your hospital." 

"Oh ! I'm sure you're welcome, Madame — " 

"Guix is my name. I received my orders to 
join you here three days ago, and communica- 
tions are so bad that I've come most of the way 
on foot. I humbly apologize for arriving at 
such an hour and in such a state." 

I hurried Madame Guix off to her apart- 
ment, told the boys to wake Julie and have her 
send us a cup of tea and some refreshments in 
my httle drawing-room. Though it was the 
middle of August, the rain and dampness 
were so penetrating that I did not hesitate to 
touch a match to a brushwood fire that is 
always prepared in my grate. In a short time 
my guest reappeared and as she refreshed her- 
self, I busily plied her with questions con- 
cerning the events of the last two weeks, 
[101] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

Madame Guix, a woman but little over 
thirty, came from Choisy-le-Roi (the city 
of famous Rouget de I'lsle). Merciere by 
trade, on the death of husband and baby she 
had adopted the career of infirmiere, and at 
the outbreak of the war found herself in pos- 
session of her diploma and ready to serve. She 
had enlisted at the big military hospital her 
native town had installed in the school house, 
and for three long weeks had sat and waited 
for something to do. 

"Are there no wounded there?" 

"Not when I left." 

"Have you ever yet had occasion to nurse a 
soldier?" 

"Yes, of course. Four days after the declara- 
tion when the Forty-ninth Territorials came 
through Choisy on their forced march to the 
front, we were suddenly filled up with cases 
of congestion. You see, that regiment is com- 
posed of men mostly over forty, and what with 
the heat, their guns and their sacs, and un- 
accustomed to such a life, many of them 
couldn't stand the strain. My first patient was 
a sad little man named Bouteron. 

"Bouteron? What Bouteron?" 
[102] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

"Marcel Bouteron." 

"No!" 

"Why?" 

"Is he dead?" 

"No." 

I breathed again. Thank God! Bouteron, 
Bouteron, our jolly little Bouteron, gaiety it- 
self, who three weeks ago was the very life and 
soul of our last house party ! Was it possible ? 
Already "down and out!" And to think that 
this strange woman should bring me the news. 
I drew my chair nearer to Madame Guix and 
for two long hours we talked, as only women 
can. 

From Choisy she had sought to exercise her 
metier to better advantage by approaching the 
front, so had addressed herself to Madame 
Macherez in Soissons. From there she had 
been sent to me. Did she think there was any 
possibility of nursing wounded in our hospital? 
We were so far south. 

She was confident that we would not be 
empty long. Bloody battles were being waged 
from Alsace throughout the entire north. 
Belgian territory had been violated and Liege 
was putting up a heroic defense. 
[ 103 ] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

But our doctor and the pharmaceutical 
products? From where and when would they 
arrive? Food and bedding would go a long 
way, but were hardly sufficient to start a 
hospital ! 

We were to count on Madame Macherez 
for both. She had promised to do her utmost 
to reach us with our supplies, but the rules 
of circulation on the roads were so severe that 
even Red Cross supply cars had to stand in 
line and await permits. In the meantime we 
must organize as best we could. 

The following morning a few moments' 
intercourse proved to me that Madame Guix's 
competence extended far beyond the bounds 
of her metier. She was a splendid worker, 
and no task was too difficult, so long as it 
furthered our purpose — namely, that of being 
ready in case of emergency. 

By noon we had decided that it would be 
useless to count upon my servants to help in 
the hospital. They already had all they could 
do. So I went and asked our mayor if he 
knew of any women who, de bonne volonte, 
would come and assist us. Madame Guix vol- 
unteered to teach them . the rudiments of 
[104] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

bandaging between two and five on the coming 
afternoons, and we would establish a roule- 
ment^ so that the little time that each dis- 
posed of might be properly and efficiently 
utilized. 

The drum beat and made the announcement, 
and at two the same afternoon we had the 
satisfaction of welcoming some twenty women. 
In the meantime every bit of old linen I pos- 
sessed was brought down and put on the dining- 
room table, then measured and torn in formes 
reglementaires ready to be sterilized and put 
aside. Half a dozen bands were left out as 
models and it was with these that Madame 
Guix commenced her demonstrations. She 
soon put her listeners at ease, and presently 
all were anxious to try a hand at bandaging. 
The naive clumsiness of these poor souls was 
extremely pathetic, but such was their patriot- 
ism that they never considered themselves 
ridiculous for a single instant, and stood there 
fumbling the long linen rolls with hands that 
were far more accustomed to wielding a spade 
or directing a plough. Again and again they 
would recommence certain difficult proceed- 
ings, taking turns at playing the dummy, and 
[105] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

offering as models calves and biceps of which 
many an athlete might have been proud. 

Of the score of women but two or three 
really acquired any facility, but we considered 
that sufficient, for in time of need the others 
could easily be put to work at necessary mat- 
ters which were of less vital importance. 

From the windows of the dining-room where 
the cours was held, we could look down the 
driveway and see all the children of the neigh- 
bourhood standing on the wall of the moat, 
craning their necks in the hope of catching a 
glimpse of what was going on in the chateau. 
It was evidently an interesting diversion, for 
every afternoon they reappeared, in spite of 
George's threats to send for the gendarmes. 
The little demons seemed to know that the 
gendarmes were too busy to give them any 
attention, and I assure you, they profited by 
their liberty. Little John Poupard and his 
five-year-old brother were the leaders of the 
band, and I trembled lest some day their curi- 
osity lead to a tragic end! 

Nor were my fears in vain, for one after- 
noon we heard a shriek and a splash, followed 
by cries of terror, and we knew for certain 
[106] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

that someone had fallen into the moat. The 
embankment is not eight feet high, and at that 
season of the year there is more mud than 
water in the river, so I was certain that who- 
ever had fallen in was in no danger of drown- 
ing — but nevertheless I hastened with the 
others to the spot. 

George, who had also heard the noise, 
reached the scene of action before we did, and 
on our arrival we found him knee deep in the 
mud, preparing to hoist a little limp body on 
to the bank. 

Johnny Poupard! 

"Good heavens !" thought I. "Decidedly that 
family had no intention of letting the village 
rust for want of dramatic situations!" 

"He's merely fainted ; more frightened than 
hurt," declared Madame Guix, who had liter- 
ally pounced upon him. "Now then, ladies," 
she said, turning towards the women who stood 
gaping at us, "now then, here's a splendid op- 
portunity to distinguish yourselves." 

And so little John Poupard was carried into 

the infirmary. As first patient you may be 

sure that he received every attention. Some 

ammonia was held under his nose. This soon 

[107] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

brought him around and after carefully sound- 
ing all his bones, Madame Guix decided that 
there were no fractures. And the bandaging 
began ! 

It makes me smile when I think of it all 
now — for the only wounds Johnny possessed 
were a few scratches on his hands, knees and 
head, caused by his sudden contact with a 
patch of stinging nettles which had sprung up 
on the river banks. 

Under ordinary circumstances, the child 
would probably have picked himself up and 
walked home, forgetting his woes an hour 
later. But real live models who are actually 
in pain, are few and far between, especially 
at "courses" such as ours, and the amount of 
professional skill that was expended on that 
little urchin ought to have cured six of hjs 
kind. But it all made the women so happy! 

At the end of half an hour, Johnny Poupard 
looked more like an Egyptian mummy than a 
hmnan being, so much so that when his grand- 
mother arrived upon the scene of action, she 
very nearly fainted and all but became patient 
number two at Auxiliary Hospital No. 7 ! 

We had some little difficulty reassuring her, 
[108] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

but when her prodigal grandson sat up and 
asked for bread and jam, she forgot her anxiety 
and began scolding him for daring to give her 
such a fright, and us so much trouble. 

Towards the end of the third week in August 
the mobilisation was considered finished and 
the Eastern Railroad opened again to the 
public; its time tables of course being limited 
and subject to instant change, the company 
refusing to be responsible for delays. To us 
at the chateau this meant very little, save 
that we would receive our mail and the 
daily papers more frequently. However, 
several friends who fancied I was unsafe alone 
and so far from the capital, kindly ventured 
to start to Villiers to try to persuade me to 
come up to town. It took them seven hours 
to reach Meaux (thirty miles from Paris) ; 
they were obliged to sleep there because it was 
suddenly announced that their train went no 
further — and worse than all, they were eighteen 
hours getting home. 

"Weren't people furious?" I questioned, 
when afterwards they told me of their ad- 
venture. 

[109] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

"Not in the slightest. Everyone bore it 
patiently as part of his tribute to his country. 
*The army first' was their motto." 

The first batch of mail brought me any 
number of stale letters, which had arrived and 
been held in Paris over three weeks. Invita- 
tions to a house party in Belgium and things 
of that kind that seemed so strangely out of 
place now. The two most important docu- 
ments, however, came, one from my cousin, 
Marie Huard ( Superior at the Convent of the 
Infant Jesus at Madrid) and the other from 
Elizabeth Gauthier. 

My cousin had taken upon herself to locate 
and communicate with every member of the 
Huard family called to arms (and they are 
numerous, when one considers that H. has no 
less than twelve married uncles!) and she en- 
closed me a sort of map, or family tree, indi- 
cating the names, ages, regiments, etc., of some 
fifty cousins, begging me to write and encour- 
age them from time to time. 

Elizabeth Gauthier's letter bore a black 

border — and I trembled as I opened it. She 

was in Paris alone, and mourning the loss of 

her eldest brother, killed at the battle of Mul- 

[110] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

house, the ninth of August. Her soHtude 
preyed upon her, and she announced her 
departure for her sister's chateau in Burgundy. 

That was the first real sadness that the war 
had brought me so far. It quite upset me, 
for Jean Bernard was not only a delightful 
friend, but one of the most promising engineers 
of the younger generation in France. Both 
family, friends and country might well deplore 
such a loss. 

Even the making and hoisting of a huge 
Red Cross flag over the chateau failed to arouse 
my enthusiasm all that day. The blow was 
too cruel and had stimulated fears which here- 
tofore had lain dormant within me. 

The next day, however, I was not permitted 
to brood over my grief, for Yvonne (she of 
the poultry farm) fell ill with a severe attack 
of sciatica, which kept her in her bed, every 
movement producing a scream of agony. 

Of course Madame Guix was there to lend 
a hand, but that hardly altered the situation, 
so I was obliged to ask the boys to give 
another "pull" and try to be equal to the work. 
Leon accepted with such alacrity that for the 
first time it dawned on me that perhaps he had 

[111] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

a soft spot in his heart for my pretty little 
goose girl, and this unsuspected romance, 
interwoven with the joys and anxieties of the 
moment, seemed all the more charming. 

To cap the climax of misfortune, old Cesar 
had run a nail into his hoof and Madame Guix 
spent most of her time between injections of 
oxygen on the first floor, and iodyne and flax- 
seed poultices in the stables. This of course 
meant that all errands outside the village must 
be made on bicycle, and George was "mus- 
tered into service." Towards noon on the 
27th he made his first return trip from Charly, 
bringing the mail and the papers, and a very 
excited countenance. 

"Madame, I've seen one!" he shouted, as I 
appeared in the doorway. 

"Seen what?" 

''Un casque a point r 

"A what!" 

"Yes — a pointed helmet. I was standing 
by the post office in Charly when a long line 
of motors passed by on the road to Paris. 
I recognized the Belgium uniform, and one 
of the soldiers leaned out and held up a German 
helmet ! What a trophy !" 
[112] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

"The Belgians! What on earth are they 
doing down here?" thought I. And George 
guessed my question. 

"Oh," he continued, "y^^ ^^^ their regiment 
was cut in two by the Germans at Charleville 
and those who escaped managed to get motors 
and are on their way home — by a round-about 
route to Antwerp via Havre. The hotel 
keeper said so. She offered some wine to one 
motor full that stopped." 

If that were true it was an amazing bit of 
news! Then things were not going as well as 
the now very reticent papers led one to sup- 
pose. But it all seemed so very distant that I 
refused to worry. 

However, I was about to seek out Madame 
Guix and tell her what George had reported 
when an amusing sight caught my eye. 

From her open window, towards which she 
had asked that we push her bed, Yvonne 
amused herself by calling her ducklings. 

"Bour-ree — bour-ree !" 

Then from the farmyard a good two hun- 
dred yards distant, would rise the reply, 
"Quack! quack! quack!" 
[113] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

Big and small recognized the call of their 
little mistress and hastened to respond. 

"Bouree — bour-ree — ^bouree !" called Yvonne 
again and again. 

Evidently the ducks decided to hold a con- 
sultation and send delegates to see what on 
earth prevented their friend from caring for 
them in person since they could hear her voice. 
For as I looked across the lawn towards the 
door, imagine my surprise on catching sight of 
some thirty or forty Rouenese ducks of all 
sizes waddling up the steps and into the 
vestibule. 

"Bour-ree, bouree!" Yvonne continued. 
"Quack, quack, quack!" came the repty, and 
when I reached the entrance hall, I found them 
all clustered together at the foot of the stair- 
case, their heads cocked on one side, awaiting 
a decision of their drake before undertaking to 
mount the marble stairway. 

That same afternoon the cour d'injirmieres 
transported itself to the lawn in front of the 
chateau. It was too splendid weather to stay 
indoors. The demonstrations were finished 
and most of the women had retired, when one 
of those who remained lifted her finger and 
[114] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

asked for silence. "Listen," she said, ''the 
cannon!" She didn't need to go any further. 
In less than a second's time we were straining 
our ears towards the east! 

"There!" she said, "there it goes again!" 

Three of us had heard a sound which 
strangely resembled the popping of a cork at a 
very great distance. Remembering my grand- 
mother's Indian stories, I stretched out on the 
grass with my ear to the ground. This time I 
heard the rolling so distinctly that my face 
must have altered, for two of the women shud- 
dered and took hasty leave. 

In a second I guessed that they were off to 
tell the news — so I made light of it by declar- 
ing that it must be the trying-out of some 
heavy artillery at Chalons; but when Madame 
Guix and I found ourselves alone, we looked 
at each other with interrogation points in our 
eyes. 

We thought of our hospital, of our supplies, 
of our perfect uselessness unless Soissons could 
yet reach us — and I resolved to go down to the 
druggist at Charly and see what could be done. 

The following morning, Saturday, the twen- 
ty-ninth — I betook myself to Charly and there 
[115] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

managed to beg the elements of a rudimentary 
infirmary from the old pharmacist, who must 
have thought me crazy. Absorbent cotton I 
was able to procure in small rolled packages 
from the draper, and promising to send the 
boys down in the afternoon with a small hand 
cart, I returned home, without having observed 
anything abnormal save the frequent passage 
of autos towards Paris — all going top speed 
and loaded with the queerest occupants and 
baggage. 

On my return great excitement reigned 
around our gate, for a private automobile con- 
taining wounded had halted on seeing our Red 
Cross flag, and Madame Guix welcomed them 
in. 

They were petit blesses, all able to travel, 
probably suffering more from heat and priva- 
tion than from their wounds. They had no 
orders to stop, but hoped we would let them 
rest a bit before going further — and could we 
give them something to eat? 

All this was very fortunate considering our 
precarious situation and we gladly did the best 
we knew how. There were six poor chaps be- 
longing to different regiments, but all so tired 
[116] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

that it seemed cruel to prevent their snatching 
a rest by plying them with questions. We 
could do that later on. 

The lads were hardly stretched out when 
another motor drew up before the gate. 
This one contained besides three privates a 
young officer with his arm in a sling, and he 
asked if we could give them water. Leon told 
them that they would be very welcome if they 
would care to come in and rest — there were 
already a half-dozen wounded asleep in the 
house. At these words the lieutenant jumped 
down and asked for the rnedicin-chef. He was 
rather startled when I appeared, and told him 
that there was no military authority as yet in- 
stalled at the chateau. 

"Then I must take all the responsibility of 
the men," he said very kindly but firmly. "I'm 
sorry, but they cannot remain here. I must 
deliver them safe at some big centre outside 
the zone of operations." 

The time had come for questions — and I 
learned with amazement that Liege had fallen, 
Belgium was invaded, and that hard fighting 
was going on at St. Quentin, but eighty miles 
away. "The cannon of yesterday was no target 
[117] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

practise," thought I. The men all seemed so 
hopeful, though, that we never felt a qualm. 

"As you will. Monsieur," I said, and the 
weary boys were wakened and hurried off 
before we had time to ask names, addresses or 
any further details. 

All this had transpired so rapidly that we 
had had no time to call in our assistants, and 
presently Madame Guix and I found ourselves 
alone in the empty vestibule. 



[118] 



IV 

Nothing further happened that afternoon. 
Madame Guix's course went on as usual, with 
perhaps a Httle more animation in the conversa- 
tion, and much speculation as to when and 
where those who had stopped at the chateau 
had been wounded. No one really knew. To 
tell the truth, though later Madame Guix and 
I had asked them, the soldiers themselves had 
but a very indistinct idea of time and date or 
whereabouts. 

That night I was awakened by the low 
rumbling of heavy carts on the road in front 
of the chateau. Fancying that perhaps it was 
artillery on its way to the front, I put on my 
dressing gown and went as far as the gate. 
There in the pale moonlight I beheld a long 
stream of carriages and wagons of every de- 
scription piled high with household goods, and 
filled with women and children. The men 
walked beside the horses to prevent collision, 
for as far as eye could see, the lamentable 
cortege extended down the hill. 
[119] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

What did this mean? 

"Who are you?" I called to one of the men 
as they passed. 

"Belgians — refugees." 

Refugees! My mind flew back to descrip- 
tions of the French Revolution and the Reign 
of Terror, when so many people fled for their 
lives! What nonsense! Were we not in the 
twentieth century? Wasn't there a Peace 
Palace at The Hague? My thoughts became 
muddled. 

Opening the gate, I went out and accosted 
another man. 

"Won't you come in and rest?" 

"No, we can't. ,We must make our twenty 
miles by dawn — and rest during the heat of 
the day." 

"But why do you leave home?" 

"Because the savages burned us out !" 

Bah, the man must be dreaming! 

I turned back and addressed myself to an- 
other : 

"What's your hurry?" I queried . 

"They're on our heels!" came the reply. 

Surely this one was madder than the other! 

A third did not deign to reply, sturdily 
[120] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

marching ahead, his eyes fixed on the road in 
front of him. 

On top of a farm cart half filled with hay I 
saw the prostrate form of a woman with two 
others kneeling beside her ministering to her 
wants. In the trap that followed was the most 
sorrowful group of old men and middle-aged 
women I ever hope to see. All were sobbing. 
Beside them rode two big boys on bicycles. I 
stopped one of them. 

"What's the matter with her?" I questioned, 
pointing to the woman on the cart. 

"She's crazy." 

"Yes, lost her mind." 

"How, when, where?" 

"Two days ago, when we left X. (Try as 
I may, I cannot recall the name of the little 
Belgian town he mentioned.) She was ill in 
bed with a fever when the Germans set fire to 
the place — hardly giving us time to hoist her 
on the cart. Her husband lingered behind to 
scrape a few belongings together. In spite of 
our efforts, she would stand up on the cart, and 
suddenly we heard an explosion and she saw 
her house burst into flame. She fainted. Out- 
[121] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

side in the woods we waited an hour, but her 
husband never came. Perhaps it's just as well, 
for when she woke up her mind was a blank!" 

Ye gods! I rubbed my eyes. It couldn't 
be possible that all this was true ! I was asleep ! 
It was merely a horrible nightmare. But no — 
the carts rolled on in the pale moonlight carry- 
ing their heavy burdens of human misery. 

It was more than I could stand. All thought 
of sleep had vanished, so I went and woke 
Madame Guix. We dressed and descended to 
the kitchen, where with a few smouldering 
embers, we soon managed to light a good fire. 
Water was set to boil and in half an hour's 
time we carried out to the bridge two huge 
pails of hot coffee, a pail of cold water, and one 
of wine. No one refused our offerings, and 
the hearty *'God bless you's" of those kindly 
souls brought tears to our eyes more than once. 

Dawn, Monday, August 31st, found us still 
at our posts. I rang the farm bell, assembled 
my servants, and told them we would abandon 
all but the most necessary farm work and min- 
ister to the wants of the refugees. By eight 
o'clock they had peeled and prepared vegeta- 
bles enough to fill two huge copper pots, and 
[122] 



ALL THE BRIDGES WERE CUT OR BLOWN UP 

[Page 146] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

the soup was set to boil. And still the long 
line of heavy vehicles followed one another 
down the road : moving vans, delivery wagons, 
huge drays, and even little three-wheeled carts 
drawn by dogs, rolled on towards the south. 

When asked where they were going, most of 
the people replied, "Straight ahead of us, a la 
grace de Dieu/' 

By the morning the heat had grown intol- 
erable and a splendid looking man got down 
from a cart and came towards me. Might he 
turn his party into the drive and rest a bit in 
the shade? 

I was only too willing, and gladly offered 
hot soup and stewed fruit to any who would 
accept. 

Two long heavy drays each drawn by a pair 
of the handsomest big bay horses with creamy 
manes that I have ever seen, pulled up in the 
courtyard. Impromptu seats had been ar- 
ranged in the wagons and from these climbed 
down some twenty or thirty old women, chil- 
dren and men, worn out by the fatigue, anxiety 
and want of sleep. My heart went out to them, 
and in a generous moment I was about to offer 
them my beds so they could get a good rest 
[123] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

before starting off again, but on second thought 
it dawned on me that I must keep them for the 
army! What a pretty thing it would be if 
another auto full of wounded suddenly ap- 
peared and found all my wards occupied ! 

I explained my position. They grasped it 
at once. It was too good of me. They were 
all well and needed no beds — ^would I let them 
sleep in the hay for a few hours ? 

But better still, I suggested, if the boys 
would carry a dozen or so extra mattresses I 
possessed into the harness room, the women 
might lie there, and the men could take to the 
hay. 

They had food, plenty of it, bought on the 
way from village dealers who had not yet been 
seized with panic and shut up shop. So I told 
them that instead of building individual fires 
they might cook their noonday meal on my 
huge range. They might also use my kitchen 
utensils and china if they would wash up, and 
thus save unpacking their own. Apparently 
this was unheard of generosity and I cannot 
tell you how many times that morning my soul 
was recommended to the tender protection of 
the Blessed Virgin. 

[124] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

While the women prepared the meal, George 
had taken the men to the wash-house, where 
soap and water worked miracles on their dusty 
faces ; one by one all the members of the group 
disappeared in that direction and when they 
gathered around the long table in the refectory, 
it was altogether a different company to that 
of an hour before. 

As they sat down it came over me that none 
of us had eaten since the night before, and 
dropping onto a chair, I suddenly realized that 
I was tired. Berthe and Nini, however, wanted 
to know where I would lunch, and were rather 
startled when I informed them to lay a cloth 
on the kitchen table and to bring out all the 
cold meat, cheese, bread, butter and jam in the 
larder. It would be a stand-up picnic lunch for 
everyone to-day, and what was more, it was 
very likely to be picnic dinner; so Julie was 
ordered to put two chickens to roast and some 
potatoes to boil — both needed but little atten- 
tion and would always be ready when we might 
need them. 

The meal passed in silence in both rooms, and 
the "washing up" was done in no time. Then 
as they all retired to take their naps, the man 
[125] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

who had first asked me if they might turn into 
the chateau, and who seemed to be the leader 
of the party, came into the kitchen and, hat in 
hand, begged a word or so with me. 

He had come not only to express the grati- 
tude of his compatriots, but also his astonish- 
ment that I should welcome strangers so cor- 
dially. I tried to side-track the conversation 
which was very embarrassing, but he would 
hear none of it. 

"We are not gypsies, you know, Madame." 
I smiled and told him that that was more than 
evident. "Look at our horses and our dogs!" 
And the good fellow proceeded to inform me 
that he was the keeper of a big estate that be- 
longed to Madame Pyrme (sister of the sena- 
tor of that name), situated in the little village 
of Hanzinell, Belgium. He even offered to 
show his papers, but I shook my head. His 
open-hearted sincerity and frank countenance 
were sufficient. 

But why had they come away? That was 
what interested me. 

Because their country was invaded and one 
by one the towns and villages had been bom- 
barded, looted and burned until little or noth- 
[ 126 ] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

ing remained. Because all men under fifty- 
were carried away as hostages or prisoners; 
because he had seen little children slain, and 
young girls tortured; because anything was 
better than falling helpless into the hands of 
such an enemy. 

"Madame, at Charleroi I've seen the blood 
running in the gutters like rain after a storm — 
and that not a week ago !'' 

It was impossible not to believe him. His 
eye was not that, of a coward. He told his 
story simply; he was almost reticent, and I 
had even to encourage him at times to make 
him finish a phrase. Finally I asked him where 
he intended going, and why so far away. 
Didn't he think he was safe here? 

No — jamais! Yesterday in the night they 
had heard the cannon growing closer and 
closer. They knew the sound. The Germans 
were advancing. It was Paris they wanted — 
and nothing would stop them till they reached 
their goal. 

"Except the French army," I said, with 
pride. 

"God grant you speak the truth, Madame!" 
But in the meantime he seemed to consider that 
[127] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

one was far safer in the way of some gigantic 
mowing-machine than on the path of the 
German army. He had come to tell me the 
truth and to warn me that I ought to make 
ready to leave. 

"You are helpless here, Madame. Three 
women, three little girls, and two boys! It's 
tempting fate." 

I couldn't seem to see it his way, however. 
The papers though very mysterious, had given 
us no cause for alarm. As yet we had not seen 
a single trooper. If it were true that the 
French were retreating we would leave when 
the army appeared. That would be time 
enough. 

"Why, my good fellow," I said reassuringly, 
"if the Germans ever reach here Paris is 
doomed — and the war will be over!" 

"Perhaps—" 

"Besides, I can't go. I've got a hospital on 
my hands, though the wounded are lacking. 
Haven't you seen our Red Cross flag? And if 
that isn't sufficient, I can prove that I'm an 
American born. That ought to be protection 
enough for anyone!" 

I must admit that the incredulous smile that 
[128] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

rose to his lips rather angered me, and I sought 
still another excuse. 

"Furthermore, one of my little maids is too 
ill to move, and I don't see us walking off with 
folded arms, and that's what would happen if 
I followed your advice, for the only horse the 
army has left me is over twenty and so lame 
that he can't walk ten steps. If he could I'd 
have had to present him for the second inspec- 
tion at Chateau-Thierry on Wednesday." 

The poor fellow shook his head at my ap- 
parent foolhardiness, but was too polite to 
argue any further. He said that his party 
would be off in an hour and asked me if I pos- 
sessed a road-map that he might consult. I 
gladly showed him the one we had bought with 
H. the day of our hasty trip from Paris, since 
then pinned to the wall of the refectory. I 
noticed that he studied it very carefully, noting 
all the little sidetracks where he thought his 
drays could pass, and thus avoid following in 
line behind the thousands of other vehicles that 
encumbered the main roads. 

Again he thanked me for all I had done, 
caressed my beautiful greyhounds, and left me 
his card so that we might meet when all was 
[129] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

over. Afterwards when I went into the court, 
I heard someone in the stable with George, 
and looking in, I saw my friend of a few mo- 
ments before examining my horse's hoof and 
telling my boy what would make the sore heal 
quickly. He was bound to do his best for me ! 

By five o'clock the stables and grounds were 
empty, and our friends from Hanzinell had 
joined the column which had slackened a bit 
during the heat of the day, but had redoubled 
in volume since the sun had gone behind the 
hills. 

We had a moment's breathing space, during 
which we gave our entire attention to Yvonne, 
who was writhing with agony on her bed 
next my room. For three days now Madame 
Guix had administered mild doses of morphine, 
but that treatment could not continue very long. 
Water bags, friction and massage had proved 
fruitless against sciatica, so we resolved to try 
a warm bath, with the result that our patient 
was almost immediately eased but too weak to 
support the heat. She fainted in the tub and 
had to be carried back to bed. We were still 
working over her when Nini appeared and said 
I was wanted below. When Yvonne's eye- 
[130] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

lashes began to flutter I left Madame Guix 
and regained the kitchen, now become the head- 
quarters. 

More refugees! Would I let them come in? 
They were traveling without map or guide and 
dared not venture along the roads at night. 

Of course they were welcome, and the same 
hospitality that had greeted the refugees from 
Hanzinell was offered to those from Thuilly. 
Thuilly — the whole village was there! — 
mayor, curate, smith and baker, all accom- 
panied by different members of their imme- 
diate families, driven from home by the cruel 
invaders. Terrified by the horrors they had 
witnessed, exhausted by their perilous journey, 
they were disinclined to talk; and as for my- 
self, I was so busy, preoccupied and thor- 
oughly spent, that curiosity was forgotten. 
Here were people in need of what comforts 
I could offer. I gave and asked no ques- 
tions. 

What was most evident at present was the 
fact that rations were shorter among this party 
than among those who had stopped in the 
morning, and certainly not for the lack of 
funds. All of them had money — ^gold a-plenty. 
[131] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

the question. If he had suddenly been con- 
fronted with a spook I do not think the old 
man could have been more astonished. He 
stopped dead still, as though not knowing 
whether to turn about and run, or to advance 
and take the consequences. Realizing his em- 
barrassment, I hastily proffered a few words 
of greeting, and then he chose the latter 
prerogative. 

''Vous?" he said, when at length he found 
his tongue. ''Vousf 

"Yes— why not?" 

"Who's with you?" 

"Nobody. Why?" 

He seemed more embarrassed than ever. 
Evidently he hadn't yet "caught on." 

"What can I do for you?" I continued. 

He still hesitated, looking first at me and 
then at a bottle he carried in his hand. Finally 
he resolved to make a clean breast of it. 

"Why," he said, "I didn't expect to find a 
woman here, least of all une chatelaine. It 
rather startled me! You see, I've got into the 
habit of coming round towards dawn. The 
boys begin to get chilly about that time, and 
are glad enough to have a go at my fruit 
[94] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

brandy. They say I'm too old to mount guard, 
so I must serve my country as best I can. 
Will you have some — ^my own brew?" 

I declined, but he was not offended; yet he 
seemed reluctant to go. 

"Sit down," I said. "It won't be long before 
some of the men will be passing by on their 
way to the fields, and then you won't have 
made your journey for nothing." 

Pere Poupard gladly accepted, and after a 
generous swig at his brandy, began telling me 
about what happened at Villiers during the 
German invasion in 1870. As he talked on, 
night gradually disappeared, and when the 
clock in the belfry tolled three A. M. my suc- 
cessors came to relieve me. I blew out the 
lantern and walked home in broad daylight. 

The boys looked very sheepish when they 
heard what had happened, but as I did not 
boast of my exploit, merely taking it as a 
matter of course, they had no way of approach- 
ing the subject, and like many other things of 
the kind, it was soon forgotten in the pursuing 
of our onerous daily tasks, and the moral anx- 
iety we were experiencing. 

There seemed to be no end to tKe fruit season 
[95] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

dawn broke, and an hour later we bade fare- 
well to our "lodgers for a night." I bethought 
me of my kodak, and as the sun peeped through 
the clouds I caught a snapshot of my depart- 
ing guests as they turned the corner of the 
chateau. 

They joined in behind the stream of other 
carts which we were now accustomed to seeing. 
In fact, this general exodus no longer aston- 
ished us. It seemed as if the panic had spread 
over the whole of Flanders like a drop of oil on 
a sheet of paper. To us, who consider our- 
selves as living in the suburbs of Paris, Bel- 
gium is so far away! 

I wound off my film and was returning to- 
wards the house, when two very distinguished 
looking girls stepped off their bicycles and 
asked for directions. I gave them with pleas- 
ure and in turn ventured a few questions. 

They were from St. Quentin ! That startled 
me. They had been en route two days. They 
had not seen the Germans, but the town had 
been officially evacuated. A man on a bicycle 
had sped by them the day before and an- 
nounced the bombardment and destruction of 
their native city! Hard fighting at La Fere. 
[134] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

St. Quentin! Then the Germans were on 
our soil ! The Belgians were right — they were 
evidently advancing rapidly. But why worry ? 
We were safe as long as we had the French 
army between us and them. 

Though as yet the day was but a couple of 
hours old, I was weary. This business of hotel- 
keeping on so large a scale with so little assist- 
ance was beginning to tell on my strength. I 
opened the gate and told George and Leon 
to welcome any who wished to come in, and 
then repairing to the kitchen, I sat down and 
began helping the others prepare vegetables. 
The discovery that in spite of all their good 
will my guests had necessarily left many traces 
of their passage, brought me to my feet again, 
and we were all hard at work when a haggard 
female face looked in at the kitchen window. 

"Is there a doctor here?" 

"No,— but— " 

The woman burst into tears. Madame Guix 
and I hurried out into the court. "My baby — 
I can't seem to warm her," moaned the poor 
soul. "She hasn't eaten anything since yester- 
day." 

And stretching out her arms, the woman 
[135] 



MY HOME IN THE PIELD OF HONOUR 

showed us an infant that she had been carry- 
ing in her apron. It was dead. 

I had difficulty in overcoming my emotion, 
but Madame Guix took the poor httle corpse 
into her arms, and I helped the mother to an 
arm chair in the refectory. 

A cup of strong coffee brought back a little 
color to her wan cheeks and she told us she 
was from Charleville. The Tauhes had got 
in their sinister work to good advantage among 
the civil population but they were merely the 
forerunners of another and heavier bombard- 
ment. The townspeople had fled in their night 
clothes. 

"Are you alone?" 

"Yes — I'm not a native of Charleville. My 
husband and I have only been married a year. 
He left the second of August and the baby was 
born the tenth. She's only three weeks old." 

ISTo wonder the mother looked haggard — one 
hundred and fifty miles on foot, with a new- 
born infant in her arms, fleeing for her life 
before the barbarous hordes ! 

I pressed another cup of coffee with a drop 
of brandy in it upon her. She looked appeal- 
ingly at both of us and then drank. 
[136] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

"Was your husband good to you?" asked 
Madame Guix. 

"Ah, yes, Madame." 

"Do you love him well enough to endure an- 
other sacrifice like a true wife and mother that 
you are?" 

"Yes." 

And then we told her that her baby had gone 
— gone to a brighter Country where war is un- 
known. She looked at us in amazement, and 
burying her head on her arm, sobbed silently 
but submissively. 

"Come, come, you must sleep — and when 
you are rested we will help you to find room in 
a cart which will take you towards your 
parents." 

She cast a long, loving look at her first born, 
and let herself be led away. 

All we could do was to make an official dec- 
laration of the death at the town hall. A small 
linen sheet served as shroud, a clean, flower- 
lined soap box formed that baby's coffin, and 
George and I were the grave diggers and chief 
mourners, who laid the tiny body at rest in the 
little vine-grown churchyard. War willed it 
thus. 

[137] 



MY HOME IN THE EIELD OF HONOUR 

When I got back from the cemetery I found 
another load of refugees installed in the court- 
yard. This time they proved to be a hotel 
keeper and her servants from the Ardennes. 
They, however, had foreseen that flight was 
imminent and had carefully packed a greater 
part of their household belongings and valu- 
ables onto several wagons, taking care that all 
were well balanced and properly loaded so as 
to carry the maximum weight without tiring 
the horses. They needed less attention than 
the others had required, for when I explained 
that the house was theirs, they went about their 
work swiftly and silently, getting in no one's 
way and attending to every want of their mis- 
tress, who sat in her coupe and gave orders. 

Later on they were joined by the occupants 
of numerous other equipages, all from the same 
district — but with whom I had but little inter- 
course. From one poor woman, however, I 
learned that her two daughters, aged sixteen 
and seventeen, had been lost from the party 
for two days. They were in the cart with the 
curate who had stopped to water his horse, thus 
losing his place in line. When they had 
reached the spot where the road forked, which 
[138] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

direction had he taken? What had become of 
them? She pinned her name and route on the 
refectory wall, begging me to give it to them if 
they ever inquired for her. To my knowledge 
they never passed. 

At luncheon Madame Guix announced that 
Yvonne was better. Far from well, but better. 
That was a load off my mind. 

The mother of the poor little infant we had 
buried was peacefully slumbering on a cot in 
the hospital, and presently Leon came in to 
say that old Cesar had put his hoof on the 
ground for the first time in four days. Bravo ! 
I felt much relieved. 

And still the carts rolled down the valley, 
their noise echoing between the hills. To-day 
there was no respite : right on through the heat 
of noon they rumbled past, thicker and faster 
it seemed to me. 

"Bother them!" I thought. "They make so 
much noise that we couldn't hear the cannon if 
it were only a mile distant." And hoping that 
perhaps I might seek some assurance from that 
sound, I was about to set off for the highest 
spot in the park to listen. At the door, how- 
ever, I was accosted by one of the two men who 
[139] 



MY HOME IN THE EIELD OF HONOUR 

for several days had been bundling my hay in 
the stable lofts. He pleaded illness. Would 
I pay him and let him go? He would come 
back to-morrow and finish if he felt better. 

As there was nothing unusual in his request, 
I settled his account and told him to go and 
rest. I now know that he was a German spy, 
and have recently learned that a fortnight later 
he was caught and shot at Villers-Cotterets. 

I wonder what possessed me to make that 
long weary climb. Evidently I found out what 
I wanted to know, but the news was anything 
but reassuring. I heard the cannon distinctly : 
so distinctly that I was a trifle unnerved. Not 
only had my ears caught the long ever-steady 
rolling (already observed three days since) but 
I had been able to make out a difference in the 
calibre of each piece that fired, and added to it 
all was a funny clattering sound, as when one 
drags a wooden stick along an iron barred 
fence. JLa Fere is putting up a heroic defense, 
I thought, blissfully unconscious of the fact 
that it is utterly impossible to hear a cannon 
at that distance — at half, no, even a quarter of 
that distance. Judge then for yourselves what 
was its proximity to Villiers ! 
[140] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

For two days now the course in nursing 
had been abandoned, not for lack of enthusiasm 
but because each housewife had more than she 
could attend to at home. The chateau was not 
the only place where refugees halted, and all 
the villagers had done their best to make the 
travelers comfortable. From where I stood 
overlooking the two valleys, I could see the 
interminable line of carts on all roads within 
scope of my view, and in every farm yard 
as well as on the side of the main thorough- 
fares, vehicles were drawn up and thin columns 
of blue smoke rising heavenward, told that the 
evening meal was under way. 

The population of my own courtyard had 
quadrupled by five o'clock. People from St. 
Quentin, Ternier, Chauny — each with a tale 
of horror and sorrow — sought refuge for the 
night. Madame Guix was permanently estab- 
lished in the dispensary, and a line was formed 
as in front of the city clinics, each one waiting 
his turn, hoping that she might be able to 
relieve his suffering. At dusk a cart turned 
into the drive and a grey-haired man asked if 
we had a litter on which to carry his son to the 
house. "What was the matter?" I inquired. "A 
[141] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

cough — such a bad cough." I went with him 
towards the wagon, and there beheld the sad 
spectacle of a youth in the last stages of tuber- 
culosis. Thin beyond description, a living 
skeleton, the poor boy turned his great glassy 
eyes towards me in supplication. I drew the 
father aside. It was best to be frank. I shook 
my head and said it would be useless to move 
his son. We had no doctor, and his illness was 
beyond our competence. Cover him well, and 
try to reach a big city as soon as possible. 

As I turned away, a sturdy youth tapped me 
gently on the arm, begging shelter for his 
great-grandmother, a woman ninety-three 
years old, whom he had carried on his back 
all the way from St. Quentin. A cot in the 
entrance hall was all prudence permitted me to 
offer, and it was charming to see how tenderly 
the young fellow bore the poor little withered 
woman to her resting-place. She was so dazed 
that I fear she hardly realized what was hap- 
pening, but tears of gratitude streamed down 
her cheeks when her boy appeared with a bowl 
of hot soup, coaxing her to drink, like a child, 
and finally curling up on the rug beside her 
bed. 

[142] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

Five times that evening the great refectory 
table was surrounded by hungry men and 
women; five times I ladled out soup and veg- 
etables to forty persons, and five times we all 
helped to wash up. So when all was finally 
cleaned away, and Madame Guix and I fell ex- 
hausted onto two kitchen chairs, it was well 
onto eleven P. M. 

My clever nurse informed me that she had 
arranged for the departure in a cart of the 
mother whose baby we had buried, and I in 
turn told her of my climb in the park and the 
approach of the cannon. It was evident that 
the Germans were bearing down on us, and 
swiftly. When we looked at the map and saw 
the names of the cities, towns and villages 
whose populations had succeeded each other 
down the road, it was clear that the French 
must be beating a forced retreat, or (and this 
was unlikely) panic had spread so quickly that 
the whole north of France was now moving 
south on a fool's errand. We cast this second 
hypothesis aside. We had heard too many 
tales of woe and seen too much misery to be- 
lieve anything of the sort. 

Well, and then what? Our case was simple 
[ 143 ] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

— either the Germans would be stopped before 
they reached us, or the French army would put 
in an appearance, in which latter case it would 
be time enough to leave, unless we were 
officially evacuated before! Having adopted 
this simple line of conduct, we retired, quite 
satisfied and not in the least uneasy. 

In the cool grey dawn of Wednesday morn- 
ing, September second, when I opened my 
shutters and looked out into the little square 
that faces the chateau, I was amazed to see 
that the refugees who had halted there were 
in carts and wagons whose signs were most 
familiar. They came from Soissons! 

"Hello," thought I, "I'll go and see what 
they have to say ! Things must be getting very 
bad if a big city like Soissons suddenly takes to 
its heels." (Soissons is but little over twenty 
miles from Villiers.) As I came down stairs I 
heard the drum roll, and George, who just then 
appeared with the milk, announced that the 
requisition of horses which should have taken 
place at Chateau-Thierry that morning, was 
indefinitely postponed. That was hardly reas- 
suring, especially as it was the first official news 
we had received in a long time. 
[ 144] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

So busy were we helping those who had slept 
at the cliateau to depart, that I had no time to 
put my first intentions into execution, and 
when finally I had a moment, I looked out of 
the window and saw that my friends from 
Soissons had vanished. They, too: well, well, 
well! 

I was not astonished; in fact I gave the 
matter but little heed. We had taken our 
resolutions the night before and had no time 
to stop every five minutes and question as to 
whether we were right or wrong. At noon, 
however, when an old peasant woman called 
me through the kitchen window and announced 
that all Charly was leaving post haste, I must 
admit that I winced, but only for a second. If 
I had listened to all the different rumours that 
had been noised abroad within the last week I 
would have been a fit subject for a lunatic 
asylum by then! 

Resolved, however, to get at the core of the 
matter, I sent George to Charly (our market 
town, four miles away) to see what he could 
find out. He returned on his bicycle at lunch- 
eon time, bearing the following astonishing 
information. 

[145] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

The hotel keeper and his wife, alarmed by 
the arrival of the Soissonais, had taken their 
auto and started for that city in quest of news. 
They had returned an hour later, having been 
unable to pass Oulchy-le- Chateau, fifteen miles 
from Charly, where all the bridges were cut or 
blown up! They were making their prepara- 
tions for departure. 

"And," continued George, in an excited 
tone, "as I came past the Gendarmerie the 
brigadier called to me and said good-bye. All 
the gendarmes had received orders to leave at 

once for their depot at ." (The name 

of some town the other side of the Marne, 
which I cannot remember.) 

Instead of frightening me this information 
stimulated my nerves, which were beginning to 
be depressed by much work and little news. 

"Good," I said. "Now then, we can expect 
the soldiers at any minute. Poke up the fire, 
Julie, and we'll fall to work to have hot soup 
ready when our boys arrive." 

Then we were really going to be in the 
excitement. How glorious to be able to help 
— for in my mind ours was the only solution 
possible to the question. 

[146] 



MY HOME IN THE EIELD OF HONOUR 

I set to work with renewed vigor and, as on 
the day before, we were constantly in demand 
by refugees requiring treatment and attention. 
How well I remember a group of four, two 
men and two women, who staggered into the 
court and timidly knocked at the window. 
Three of them were glad to accept soup and 
wine, but the fourth, a middle-aged woman, 
sank down on the steps and buried her head in 
her hands. 

"Why doesn't one of you men relieve her of 
that heavy parcel she has strapped to her 
shoulders?" I asked. 

"She won't let us touch it. She's never put 
it aside a minute since we left home six days 
ago!" 

"Is it as precious as all that?" I queried, 
eyeing the huge flat package which might have 
been the size of the double sheet of some daily 
paper. 

"It's her son's picture. He's gone to the 
army and she's alone in the world." 

"But why on earth is she carrying frame, 
glass, and all? It must be nearly killing her in 
this heat!" 

"Madame," said the woman's friend sol- 
[147] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

emnly, "she worked six months and put all her 
savings into that frame! Do you wonder she 
did not wish to leave it behind!" 

I opened a side door and showed them a foot 
path across the hills, a short cut which car- 
riages could not take, and was just turning 
the key in the lock when the telephone rang. 

That was the first time since the second of 
August ! What could it mean ? Probably the 
arrival of wounded. I literally flew to answer 
the call. 

I had some little difficulty recognizing 
Mademoiselle Mauxpoix' voice: it was trem- 
bling with emotion. She greeted me politely 
and then begging me not to be too alarmed, 
she announced that she had just received 
official orders to put all her telephones and 
telegraphic apparatus out of working order 
— to damage them so that repairs would be 
impossible. 

"I have ten minutes more left," she con- 
tinued. "A government motor is coming at 
four o'clock to take me, my employees and my 
books to Tours." 

"But, Mademoiselle " 

She did not heed my interruption. "You 
[148] 



»-— ^ 










NOISY ROLLING SOUNDS TOLD ME THAT ARTILLERY 
WAS CROSSING THE CITY [Page 192] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

cannot stay, Madame Huard ! You must not ! 
No woman is safe on their path. I know this 
better than you, for I have been receiving 
official reports for more than a month! The 
worst is true! For the love of heaven, go — 
you've still got a chance though there's hard 
fighting going on in the streets of Chateau- 
Thierry! For God's sake, don't hesitate. 
Adieu." 

She was gone ! And I stood there dazed ! 

"Hard fighting at Chateau-Thierry! That's 
only seven miles from here." I counted. 

Go? Go where? How? Go and abandon 
my post, with Yvonne still too ill to move, and 
all the others depending on my help ! Go ? By 
what means, when my only horse was too lame 
to cross the courtyard! It was far better to 
stay and defend one's belongings! 

And then as I slowl}^ returned through the 
corridors, it occurred to me that in spite of my 
desire to stay I might be forced out. Suppose 
the chateau should suddenly become the target 
for the German guns ? Well, we could all take 
to the cellars, as the others had done in 1870. 
But — and here was the point — suppose the 
French took possession and gave us women 
[149] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

but a few minutes to leave before the battle 
began. Then what ! Here was food for reflec- 
tion. I resolved to take Madame Guix and the 
two boys into my confidence. Four heads were 
better than one ! 

They received the news calmly, and I almost 
caught a glimpse of a twinkle in George's and 
Leon's eyes. The excitement pleased them. 

If what Mademoiselle Mauxpoix had said 
was true, the Germans were now on their way 
to Villiers. It was evident that the French 
were putting up a stubborn resistance, but 
there was little hope of their stopping them 
before they reached our vicinity. Battle meant 
destruction of lives and property. Well, since 
we still possessed the former, it was high time 
to think of saving the latter. The sun was 
fast sinking behind the pine trees. In an hour 
it would be dark. What I decided to do must 
be done at once. 

"George and Leon, bring down my two big 
trunks, and tell Nini to hitch the donkey to his 
flat cart and drive to the side door." I had 
resolved to save what I could of H.'s work, and 
going to the studio closet, I began selecting 
the portfolios containing mounted drawings 
[150] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

and etchings. It was useless to think of the 
paintings. They were too big. The trunks 
were full in no time. I had no other recep- 
tacles, so reluctantly closed the but half empty 
cupboards, consoling myself with the thought 
that all this was possibly useless preparation, 
and praying Heaven that I had made a good 
choice among the portfolios in case the worst 
came. 

The boys put the trunks onto the cart and 
set off in the direction of a sand quarry, where 
I knew we could dig in safety, and easily cause 
a miniature landslide, which would cover all 
traces of our hidden treasure. I promised to 
join them in an hour — the time I judged it 
would take them to make so large an excava- 
tion, and returning to my room, gathered my 
jewels and papers into a little valise, and put 
them beside my fur coat and my kodak. A few 
other trinkets and innumerable photographs 
and letters were locked in my desk, and per- 
ceiving that it would be utterly impossible to 
carry them with me, I wondered how on earth 
I might protect them. Suddenly I bethought 
me of a tiny silk American flag that my mother 
had given me years before, when as a child I 
[151] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

left home for my first trip to Europe. I found 
it where I hoped, and shutting one edge of it 
into the drawer, I let the stripes hang down- 
ward and pinned the following inscription into 
its folds : 

^'I swear that the contents of this desk are 
purely personal and can he of value to no one 
hut myself, I therefore leave it under the pro- 
tection of my country's fiagf' 

I felt very proud when I had done this and 
then hurried into my dressing-room where I 
hastily filled my suit-case with a few warm 
underclothes, a change of costume, and an 
extra pair of shoes. I had about finished and 
was heartily glad that this useless job was 
over, when on glancing out of the window I 
caught sight of fuzzy-haired Madame La 
Miche driving up the avenue in her dog 
cart. 

Madame La Miche and her husband run a 
big stock farm near Neuilly St. Front, some 
fifteen miles from Villiers. I had often seen 
her at poultry and agricultural shows, where 
their farm products usually carried off any 
number of prizes. It was she who sold me my 
cows hardly a year since. 
[152] 



MY HOME IN THE EIELD OF HONOUR 

"You?" I said, as she drew up to the steps. 

"Yes. En route — hke all the others. Our 
entire fortune is in live stock and I'm going to 
try to save as much as I can. May we 
come in?" 

Certainly — and a half -hour later one of the 
largest farms in France had been moved bodily 
into my pasture land! The whole thing was 
conducted in a very orderly manner by M. La 
Miche, who on horseback drew up the rear of 
this immense cavalcade composed of some two 
hundred white oxen, hitched two abreast, sev- 
enty or eighty horses, as many mares with 
young colts, and heaven knows how many cows 
and calves; all accompanied by the stable 
hands. Poor tired beasts, how greedily they 
drank the cool water of our spring, and how 
willingly the cunning little colts, whose tender 
hoofs had been worn to the quick by their un- 
heard-of journey, allowed the men to tie up 
their feet in coarse linen bandages with strips 
of old carpet for protection. 

Madame La Miche had been officially evacu- 
ated at noon, so I did not hesitate to tell her 
what I had heard. She was not surprised, and 
said she intended leaving at midnight, but her 
[153] 



MY HOME IN THE EIELD OF HONOUR 

animals, unaccustomed to such exercise, must 
have a few hours' rest. 

In the kitchen I found George and Leon, 
who had accomphshed their task sooner than I 
expected. Relying on their word that it was 
impossible to tell where they had buried the 
trunks, I did not go back to the sand quarry. 
Half a mile was a distance to be considered, 
under the circumstances. 

While all this had been going on, Madame 
Guix had taken Julie into her confidence and 
asked her if she would follow us if we were 
obliged to leave. Julie is a native of Villiers, 
and her husband and children live in a little 
house near by. She had consulted her lord and 
they were willing to lend their big dray horse 
if they could all join our party. Of course we 
agreed and while it was light, we decided to 
put some bags of oats into the bottom of our 
hay-cart, to cover these with hay, and then 
all the servants could pile on, the boys taking 
turns at walking since Yvonne must have room 
to be stretched out. 

How I hated all this business! Madame 
Guix then counted the number of persons com- 
posing our party, and sent Nini to fetch as 
[154] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

many blankets and pillows. These, with a box 
containing salt, sugar, chocolate, and other dry 
provisions, a valise packed with a few bandages 
and a little medicine, were put onto a little light 
farm-cart to which we might harness Cesar in 
case of great emergency. 

The two vehicles when loaded were run into 
an empty carriage house, whose door I locked, 
rather ashamed of my precautions. 

Night had fallen and the incoming stream 
of refugees demanded our every attention. 
Madame Guix was occupied with two women 
whose physical condition was such that it was 
impossible to refuse them beds, come what 
might — and as I crossed the vestibule in search 
of some instruments, the shadow of a woman 
and two little girls came up the steps. "Could 
I give them lodgings?" begged the poor soul. I 
looked at her — she was so frightened that it 
was most pathetic, and the two curly-headed 
children clung to her skirts and shivered. 

"I've never been alone before," she ex- 
plained, and her teeth fairly chattered with 
terror. "I can pay, and pay well — I've thirty 
thousand francs in gold on me." 

"Then, for Heaven's sake, don't let anyone 
[155] 



MY HOME IN THE EIELD OF HONOUR 

know it !" I said, very abruptly. "I don't want 
money, but there are others who may. Be 
careful — a fortune like that may lead to your 
destruction. Hide it!" 

She stared at me in amazement. Evidently 
the idea that dishonesty existed never occurred 
to her. She thanked me for the advice and 
hoped she had not offended me, and begged 
me to take pity on Her. 

"Did anyone see you come in here?" 

She thought not. 

"For if they did I fear you will have to share 
the common lot. I have no reason to give you 
preference. The others might protest." 

I stuck my head out of the doorway. When I 
turned around, those three helpless creatures 
stood clinging to one another in the big empty 
vestibule, making a most pitiable gi^oup. 

"Go up two flights of stairs — turn to your 
left and follow the corridor to the end. The 
last door on your left opens into a room with 
a huge double bed. It was too big for our 
hospital. That's the only reason we didn't 
bring it down. It's at your disposal. Don't 
thank me. Good-night." 

When I got a moment I went to Yvonne's 
[156] 



MY HOME IN THE EIELD OF HONOUR 

room. "Did she think she could get up a little : 
long enough to take some dinner? Perhaps 
she might put on a few clothes and make an 
effort to walk around her room." Ten days in 
bed had made her very weak. She must try 
to gain a little strength. She promised and I 
departed. The idea of carrying her out bodily 
was anything but encouraging ! 

At six-thirty the public distribution of soup 
recommenced. Who my guests were I have 
no idea. There were more than a hundred of 
them. That was clear enough from the dishes 
that were left. Just as the last round had 
been served, George came in to say that the 
village was beginning to get uneasy — people 
from Neuilly St. Front and Lucy-le-Bocage 
and Essommes had already passed down the 
road, and the peasants looked to the chateau 
for a decision ! 

I went out to the gate. Yes, true enough, 
our neighbors from Lucy (five miles distant) 
had joined the procession. Then there was a 
break, and a lull, such as had not occurred for 
two days, and in the silence I again recognized 
the same clattering sound that had caught my 
ear on the hill top the afternoon before. This 
[157] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

time it was much more distinct, but was soon 
drowned out by the rumbling of heavy wheels 
on the road. 

Surely this time it was artillery ! 

I wrapped my shawl closer about me and 
sat down on the low stone wall that borders the 
moat, while little groups of peasants, unable 
to sleep, clustered together on the roadside. 

]^J^earer and nearer drew the clanking noise 
and presently a whole regiment of perambula- 
tors, four abreast, swung around the corner 
into the moonlight. 

Domptin ! 

Domptin, our neighboring village, one mile 
up the road, had caught the fever and was 
moving out wholesale, transporting its ill and 
decrepit, its children and chattels, in heaven 
knows how many baby carriages ! 

I had never seen so many in all my life. 
The effect was altogether comic, and Madame 
Guix and I could not resist laughing — much 
to the dismay of these poor souls who saw 
little amusement at being obliged to leave home 
scantily clad in night clothes. 

They passed on, without further comment, 
and the last man had hardly turned the corner 
[ 158 ] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

when a scream coming from up the road drew 
us to our feet, and sent us running in that 
direction. Almost instantly, the figure of an 
old white-capped peasant woman appeared in 
the distance. She was wringing her hands and 
crying aloud. When we were within ear shot, 
I caught the word, "Uhlans!" 

"Uhlans! Where?" 

''Dans le hois de la M azure T (A half-mile 
from Villiers.) 

"How do you know?" 

"Saw their helmets glittering in the moon- 
light!" 

"What rot! They're Frenchmen — dragoons. 
You don't know your own countrymen when 
you see them! Did you approach them?" 

"No." 

"Then what in the name of common sense 
sent you flying down here to scare us like that ? 
You've got no business spreading panic broad- 
cast. If you don't turn around and scamper 
home, the way you came, I'll have you arrested. 
Allezr 

My nerves had stood the strain as long as 
possible. This false alarm had roused my anger 
and in a jiffy I could see how thousands of 
[159] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

people had been deceived, and were now erring 
homeless along the roads of France! 

"You can do what you like," I said, turning 
to the others, "but I've had enough of this for 
one day — I'm going to bed. Good-night, 
gentlemen." 

"The chatelaine is going to bed, the chate- 
laine is going to bed!" "Let all go to bed," and 
similar phrases were echoed among the groups 
and presently we all separated, after many 
cordial a demain. 

The clock in the village church was striking 
midnight when I finally retired, after calling 
my greyhounds and Betsy into my room, and 
assuring myself that they all had on their col- 
lars, and that their leashes were hanging on 
my bed post. 

Nini, the little traitor, had evidently told 
Yvonne of my preparations for departure, and 
the two girls, whose beds were in the next room 
to mine, had been unable to close their eyes, 
for as I blew out my lamp, I could hear their 
childish voices repeating the rosary: 

"Hail Mary full of Grace — the Lord is 
with Thee . . ." 

[160] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

I may have slept an hour. Then I can dhuly 
remember hearing a wild yelp from my dogs, 
and when I found myself in the middle of my 
room rubbing my eyes, Yvonne was calling, 
"Madame! Madame!" in terrified tones. My 
pets were mad with excitement, and the sound 
of the farm bell was ringing in my ears ! 

"Silence!" I yelled. 

Everything but the bell ceased. 

Heedless of my attire, I rushed to a back 
window and repeated my command. 

The bell stopped. 

"Who are you that you dare wake us like 
that!" I scolded. 

A boy between eighteen and nineteen let go 
the rope and stepped beneath the window. I 
could see his blond hair in the moonlight. 

"Are you Madame Huard?" 

"Yes." 

"I've come with a message from your hus- 
band." 

I grew cold as ice. Good God, what had 
happened? 



[161] 



In a bound I was down stairs and had 
opened the front door. 

"Is H. wounded?" I gasped. 

"No, Madame." 

I breathed again. 

"Where was he when you saw him?" 

"On the road between Villers-Cotterets and 
La Ferte Milon." 

"What's your message?" 

The boy put his hand to his breast pocket 
and drew forth a shp of paper. The full moon 
shining on the white facade of the chateau 
threw such a brilliant reflection that I recog- 
nized a sheet from a sketch book, and could 
distinguish the following words scribbled in 
pencil : 

"Give bearer fifty francs, then in the name 
of the love you bear me, evacuate now; go 
south, not Paris." 

The last words were underscored three or 
four times. 

[162] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUK 

"What time was it when H. gave you this?" 

"Noon or thereabouts." 

"How did you come? On foot?" 

"No, bicycle." 

"But it's after midnight!" 

"I know, but I got lost and had three bad 
punctures." 

Here were marching orders for fair, and if 
I intended obeying enough time had already 
been lost. To stay in spite of everything was 
to be responsible for all the young lives that 
looked to me for protection. Could I promise 
it ? No. Then go it was ! 

At that same moment and as though to 
reinforce my decision, the strange clattering 
noise I had observed growing nearer and nearer 
during the last two days broke on the night air. 

"Hark!" said the boy. ''La mitrailleuse^ 

"The machine guns!" I echoed. 

''Oui, Madame/' 

That sufficed. "We'll be leaving in ten 
minutes. Go to the kitchen. I'll send someone 
to look after you and we'll go together." 

All this had transpired in less time than it 
takes to tell it. Awakened by the bell, the 
refugees in the stables came pouring into the 
[163] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

courtyard. A second later, George, lantern in 
hand, came running towards me. 

"Tell Leon to harness Cesar — then go and 
wake Julie and say that we are leaving in ten 
minutes. I expect her, and her family, with 
their horse, to be ready. The courtyard in ten 
minutes. Mind!" 

On the landing I met Madame Guix already 
fully dressed. 

''Nous partonsf' was all I said. She under- 
stood and followed me towards Yvonne's room. 

The two children, their teeth chattering, 
looked towards us in terror. 

"Nini, put on the warmest clothes you pos- 
sess and help Madame Guix to dress Yvonne. 
Then go to the kitchen and wait there without 
moving." 

My own toilet was brief, and five minutes 
later, lamp in hand, I was pounding on all 
the doors of the long corridors, fearful lest 
some one be forgotten and locked in the house. 
When I reached the second floor I bethought 
me of the woman and her two children, and as 
I advanced I called, "Don't be frightened. 
This is merely a warning!" 

The poor soul must have been dreaming, 
[ 164 ] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

for when I touched her door she screamed, and 
as I opened it and held the lamp over my head, 
I could see the two little creatures clinging to 
their mother, who on her knees begged, "Take 
me, but spare my babies!" 

I had some difficulty in reassuring her, but 
finally succeeded, and left her to go below to 
the hospital. 

At the first alarm, the women who were 
sleeping there had fled in terror, and when 
assured that all were gone, for safety's sake 
I went into the vestibule and standing at the 
foot of the stairs, called, "All out! All out! 
I'm closing up and leaving!" 

No one answering, I judged that my sum- 
mons had been obeyed, and so hurried back to 
my own room to fetch jewels, kodak and pets. 
On my way down I opened H.'s wardrobe and 
grabbed several overcoats, confident that the 
boys would forget theirs and need them. 

In the courtyard I found Julie and her 
family already perched on the hay-cart, where 
Yvonne had been hoisted and lay moaning, 
well covered in a blanket. Both horses were 
hitched and my servants waiting orders. Be- 
side ours, other big drays were being prepared 
[165] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

for flight, yet there was no confusion — no loud 
talking — no lamenting. I then told the boys 
to hurry to the farm yard and open all the 
gates so that the poultry and cows could have 
free access to the entire estate, which is closed 
in by a wall. I was thus certain that though 
they might feel hungry they would not die for 
want of food or water during the short time I 
intended to be gone. 

This done, I went to the kitchen where I 
found Nini, who had obeyed orders not to move 
but who had presence of mind enough to lay 
out bread and jam and wine for the famished 
youth who had brought the message. 

In the lamplight I caught sight of my road 
maps on the refectory wall, and setting my 
jewel box on the table I began unpinning and 
carefully folding them and put them in the 
pocket of my motor coat. Almost at the same 
instant, the lamp flickered and Leon came in 
to say that all the dogs were found save the 
beagle hound and three fox terrier puppies, 
who, frightened by the bell and the commotion, 
had hidden in the hay lofts. We went out, 
and I called and whistled in vain — none of 
them appeared. 

[166] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

All this had taken more time than I ex- 
pected. The wagons full of refugees had dis- 
appeared, and we were alone. 

''En router I called, climbing into the 
charette, a big lump rising in my throat. 

''En router called George. 

Once again I counted our party to be sure 
all were there, and then slowly the heavy-laden 
hay-cart pulled out of the courtyard onto the 
high road. 

The first ten steps that my horse took he 
limped so painfully that my heart sank in my 
boots. 

What nonsense, this departure! The poor 
beast would break down and we'd have to shoot 
him by the wayside, and other similar cheerful 
thoughts fled through my brain as we jogged 
up the narrow village street. 

In front of the town hall I halted, first of 
all to rest my steed, secondly to await George 
and Leon, who had remained behind to shut 
the entrance doors and bolt the gate, and finally 
because I was astonished to see all the windows 
illuminated. 

I jumped down and approaching one of the 
panes looked through and saw the entire 
[167] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

municipal council seated in a semi-circle, their 
faces grave with anxiety. Presently the boys, 
accompanied by H.'s messenger, rode up on 
their bicycles and handed me the keys. I 
entered the room where Mr. Duguey, the 
schoolmaster and town clerk, greeted me. 

"Gentlemen, I've come to give you the keys 
to my estate. I've received a message from 
my husband begging me to leave at once." 

"Then make haste, Madame, while there is 
still time. We are just about to beat the call 
to arms and warn the population that those 
who hope to escape must leave at once. Though 
we have no official orders to do this we have 
taken it on ourselves, for we now know for 
certain that the Uhlans have surrounded the 
village and are awaiting daylight to take pos- 
session. They are probably bivouacking on 
the heights in your park." 

Then the old peasant woman had not lied! 
Those were really Uhlans she had seen in the 
bois de la Mazure, Ye gods, and here I was 
trying to get away with a lame horse ! Thank 
heaven, the Marne was not far ! I would cross 
it and then await developments. 

The clock in the little church struck two 
[168] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

and an owl hooted mournfully in the belfry as 
silently our cortege plodded up the steep in- 
cline. When we reached the summit I could 
not resist turning around and casting a long 
affectionate glance on my lovely home — shin- 
ing like a fairy palace in its setting of won- 
derful trees. Who could tell? I might never 
see it again! 

George, too, must have been penetrated with 
the same sentiment, for he rode up close to the 
cart and grasping the mud guard, turned on 
his saddle and wistfully shaking his head, gave 
vent to his feelings by the following very in- 
elegant but extremely expressive ejaculation: 

"Quels cochons! vous chasser dfune propriete 
pareiller 

A long shiver of emotion crept down my 
spine, and though it was but the second of 
September I instinctively drew the fur collar 
of my coat closer about my throat. 

In front of me I could hear the wheels of 
our heavy-laden hay-cart creaking as the big 
farm horse plodded on. Its occupants were 
silent, and thanks to the moon and the lantern 
which hung up high behind, I could see Julie 
and Madame Guix nodding with sleep. 
[169] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

My own poor beast limped on and besides 
thinking of all that I had left undone at the 
chateau and planning how and where we could 
go, I had the constant vision of his silent 
suffering in front of me. At every little incline 
I would get down and throwing the reins over 
the neck of Betsy, my bull dog, who occupied 
the seat beside me, I would give Cesar his head 
and take my place with the boys behind. He 
seemed to be grateful. 

Let it be said, however, that as our journey 
advanced the hoof, at first so tender from much 
poulticing, became firmer and firmer, and in- 
stead of increasing, the lameness rather grew 
less. 

We crossed our little market town of Charly 
amid dead silence. Not a light in a single 
window, not a sound anywhere. We seemed 
to be the only souls astir, and the foolhardiness 
of this midnight departure when everyone else 
was tucked up snug in his bed, angered me. 
I was seized with a mad desire to turn about 
and go home. 

Just then George asked me which direction 
I intended taking, and remembering H.'s im- 
perative ''Go south'' we turned sharp and 
[170] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

headed for the first bridge across the 
Marne. 

High in front of me rose the dark wooded 
hills of Pavant, descending abruptly to that 
narrow strip of fertile plain which borders the 
river on both sides, but now half -veiled in a 
heavy blue mist. Below me the swift current 
sped onward like a silver arrow, and before so 
impressive a spectacle I could not help thinking 
how meagre is the art of the scene painter and 
dramatist which tries to depict a real battle- 
field. For battle field I felt this was, and my 
overstrained nerves no longer holding my 
imagination in check, I could already see 
human forms writhing in agony, and hear the 
moaning of souls on the brink of Eternity. As 
though to vivify this hallucination, the dying 
moon suddenly plunged behind a cloud, light- 
ing the landscape but by strange lugubrious 
streaks, and in the distance behind us a long 
low rumble warned me that my dream might 
soon be a terrible reality. 

The Marne crossed, a weight was lifted from 

my shoulders, and settling back against the 

pile of blankets in my rig, I let the horse follow 

his own sweet will and we started to zig-zag up 

[171] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

a steep incline. At the end of five minutes' 
time I was so benumbed by the cold that sleep 
was impossible, so I left my seat and joined 
the others who, all save Yvonne, had been 
obliged to descend to relieve their horse. What 
a climb that was — seven long kilometres from 
right to left, winding around that hill, as about 
a mountain, ever and again finding ourselves 
on a narrow ledge overlooking the valley. The 
fog had spread until literally choked up be- 
tween the hills and I could hardly persuade 
myself that it was not the sea that rolled below 
me. Even the signal lamps on the distant 
railway line rose out of the labyrinth like a 
lighthouse in mid-ocean, making the illusion 
complete. 

Dawn was breaking as we reached the 
summit and pausing for a moment's breath, 
we could see people with bundles hurrying 
from cottages and farm yards, while the fields 
seemed dotted with horses and carts that 
sprang out of the semi-darkness like spectres, 
following one another to the highway. In less 
than no time the long caravan had re-formed 
and was again under way. 

We brought up the rear, preceded by five 
[172] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

hundred snow-white oxen. There was no way 
of advancing faster than the cortege. It was 
stay in Hne or lose your place, and as the sun 
rose over the plains, I was so impressed by the 
magnificence of our procession that I forgot 
the real cause of our flight and never for an 
instant realized that I now formed an intimate 
part of that column which but a few hours 
since inspired me with such genuine pity. 

As we passed through a small agglomera- 
tion of houses that one might hardly call a 
village, I recognized several familiar faces on 
the doorsteps, and presently comprehended 
why Charly was so dark and silent the night 
before. It was empty — evacuated — and the 
greater part of its inhabitants were here on 
the roadside, preparing to continue their 
route. 

Where were we going? I think none of us 
had a very definite idea. We were following 
in line on the only road that crossed this won- 
derfully fertile country. The monotony of the 
landscape, the warmth of the sun, added to 
the gentle swing of my cart calmed my nerves 
and I fell back into a heavy sleep. 

When I opened my eyes I could hear water 
[173] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

running over a dam, and see below me and but 
a very short distance away, a river flowing 
through a valley. Someone said it was the 
Petit Morin; another announced that we had 
come seventeen kilometres and a third prof- 
fered that it was 6:30 A. M. — time for break- 
fast. We ought not to attack the opposite hill 
on empty stomachs. 

Accordingly we crossed the Petit Morin and 
broke ranks in front of two little cottages that 
bordered the river at the entrance of an electric 
power house. At the same time, a small covered 
gig halted beside our big cart and from it 
descended the mother of the two little girls — 
she who had so much gold. 

Did I mind if she followed in our wake? 

Of course not. 

She was still as timid and frightened as the 
night before, and it didn't take much question- 
ing to learn that she had never had a pair of 
reins in her hands before in her life. 

The boys took all the horses down to the 
river and carefully bathed their knees and legs. 
In the meantime, coffee had been found and 
ground, someone had scurried about and found 
a house where milk could be had, and on an iron 
[174] 



^»-i 



'3^ 



9 



-^d 



-?t 






AS WE CROSSED THE PUBLIC SQUARE THE AMBULANCES 
WERE LINING UP IN BATTLE ARRAY [Page 235] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

tripod that I had sense enough to bring along, 
water was set to boihng. 

It was very amusing that first picnic break- 
fast, and my! what appetites we had. The 
summer lodgers in one of the cottages gazed 
upon us in amazement — all save one little girl 
who, so it seems, had had a presentiment that 
some ill would befall her and for two days had 
not ceased weeping. 

The meal over, each one went to my cart and 
taking possession of a blanket and pillow, 
rolled up in it and went fast asleep in the bril- 
liant sunshine. How we blessed those warm, 
penetrating rays, for we had suffered much 
from the damp cold all night. 

Left alone, I overhauled my wagon and 
made the discovery that my jewel box was 
missing. That did not alarm me much, for I 
was confident that I had left it on the refectory 
table, and would find it — like my silver chests 
— just where I had left them. 

My road map showed us to be at La Tre- 
toire, midway between Charly and Rebais, but 
as there were no provisions to be had in so 
small a place, I decided to push on to the town- 
ship where we might be able to get lodgings. 
[ 175 ] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

This, however, must be done before noon, or 
we would be obliged to sleep out of doors again, 
for it would be impossible to travel through 
the heat of the day. Accordingly, at half past 
eight, I roused the boys and we started up the 
hill, bag and baggage. 

It was much the same kind of scene as at 
Pavant, only we were less excited and far more 
exhausted than at the outset of our trip. Each 
one stalked on, gritting his teeth and wiping 
the big beads of perspiration from his brow. 
By ten we reached the top and calling George, 
who had been walking beside the leader 
since we left home, I told him to take my 
place in the charette and I would mount my 
bicycle. 

Leaving orders to follow the straight road 
to Rebais, I pushed on ahead, promising to do 
my best, and an hour later found myself on the 
outskirts of the little town — very weary and 
almost overcome by the heat. In the hurry of 
my departure from Villiers I had wrapped a 
scarlet chiffon scarf about my head, never 
thinking that a hat would be a very useful 
article in the daytime. For sixty minutes, 
then, as I had pedaled along that endless road, 
[176] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

the sun had beaten down upon my head and 
shoulders, and when I came upon a pubhc 
pump, I dropped down in the grass beside it, 
after wringing out my handkerchief in its re- 
freshing water and bathing my burning face 
and arms. 

When I finally made my entrance into 
Rebais, I found that thousands of other per- 
sons had probably had the same idea as I and 
it took but little time to discover that all rooms, 
whether private or public, were occupied. The 
place was overflowing with refugees. The 
line outside the baker's shop warned me that 
I had a dozen hungry mouths dependent upon 
me and yesterday's supply of bread was well- 
nigh exhausted, let alone being stale. I took 
my place among the others and stood for a 
good hour waiting for the second ovenful to 
finish baking. 

Certainly no greasy pig at a county fair 
was ever more difficult to manage than that 
long nine-pound loaf of red hot bread. There 
was no way of handling it — it burned every- 
thing it touched. No sooner did I put it under 
one arm than I was obliged to change it to the 
other post haste. Add to this the fact that I 
[177] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

had not ridden a bicycle since a child, and 
realize that whether walking or riding the 
bread was equally hot and equally cumbersome. 
It was too long to fit into the handlebars, be- 
sides how could I hold it there? Too soft to 
be tied with string that I might buy. At one 
moment I thought seriously of picking up my 
skirt and carrying the bread as peasant women 
do grass and fodder, but alas, a 1914 skirt was 
too narrow to permit this. At length when 
almost disheartened and I had stood my loaf 
against the side of a house to cool, I recognized 
a familiar voice back of me, and George ap- 
peared on his wheel to announce that my party 
had camped in a young orchard two miles out- 
side of Rebais, neither man nor beast being 
capable of going any farther. We clapped our 
loaf into an overcoat that was strapped to the 
back of his machine, and swinging it between 
us, soon joined the others. 

Our noonday repast was composed of cold 
ham and fried potatoes. I think I never ate 
better, though I must confess that the latter 
were stolen from a neighboring field. By two 
o'clock a dozen weary inhabitants of Villiers 
were stretched out on their rugs and peace- 
[178] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

fully dreaming ! We had decided to rest before 
determining what to do for the night. 

I was awakened by a stiff feeling in my neck, 
and opened my eyes to find that the sun was 
rapidly disappearing in the west. I had slept 
soundly four hours and was much refreshed, 
though the bumps in the ground had bruised 
me, and I could hardly move my head. 

Yvonne had stood the journey so far very 
well though unable as yet to walk, but as the 
cool of the evening came on I began to worry 
lest a night out of doors set her screaming with 
pain. So as I laced my boots, I decided to go 
back to Rebais and make another desperate 
attempt to lodge her at least. 

"Did Madame see Maitre Baudoin this 
morning," asked Leon, to whom I imparted my 
plans. 

I gasped! What a fool I was! My mind 
was so upset that I had forgotten that my 
own notary was a prominent personality in 
Rebais. 

A quarter of an hour later I turned into the 
public square and beheld Maitre Baudoin and 
his wife standing on the doorstep watching the 
exodus of numerous refugees. 
[ 179 ] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

"Madame Huard!" they exclaimed. "You? 
What on earth has happened?" 

I explained in a few words. 

"Why, come right in. We were just going 
to sit down to dinner." 

I said I was not alone, and must first look 
after the others. Without waiting a second, 
Maitre Baudoin crossed over to the town hall 
and soon returned with a key in his hand. 

"Here, here's the key to a bakery — there are 
rooms above. Your people can lodge there 
and you come in with us. All this will be 
over in a day or so; the news is good to-day. 
The Germans will never reach the Marne!" 

I went and fetched our delighted caravan, 
and after safely depositing them in their new 
residence, I was crossing the main street to 
join my friends, when a big military auto 
whisked into the middle of the square and 
halted. Ten seconds later it was followed by a 
dozen others, and by the time I had reached 
the Baudoins' the Place was literally lined 
with motors, containing officers and orderlies. 
We were just sitting down when some one 
pounded on the door and a deep authoritative 
voice called out, 

[180] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

"You're to lodge a general and two officers !" 
And we could hear the man hastily chalking 
the names on the door. 

Madame Baudoin looked from me to her 
husband, her eyes wide open with astonish- 
ment. The meal was forgotten and we hurried 
out into the twilight to seek news. The Etat 
Major of a cavalry division was to bivouac at 
Rebais, would be leaving at midnight. 

My friends understood, and they who had 
not as yet seen a soldier since the war began, 
realized for the first time that they were now 
in the midst of the retreating army. I begged 
them to make ready for flight and they hur- 
ried homewards while I returned to the bakery 
to hold council. 

As I reached the door, someone touched me 
on the shoulder and an officer, pointing to the 
Red Cross armlet I was wearing, said: 

"Go to the hospital at once. We need your 
services. Wounded." 

"Very well, sir," I replied, and stepped 
inside. 

"Madame Guix! Madame Guix!" I called 
in the stairway from the shop. 

The others came clattering down all excite- 
[ 181 ] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

ment, saying that Madame Guix had been 
recognized by her uniform and sent flying to 
the hospital. 

Just then a shadow barred the entrance 
door and turning I saw an army chauffeur 
standing there. 

"A piece of bread for God's sake," he 
begged. 

"What?" 

"Yes, I'm nearly dead of hunger. We've 
had no time to cook our food, and bread has 
been lacking for two days." 

I looked about me — the bread boxes were 
empty. I had no right to do so, but I opened 
all the cupboards. The least I could do was 
pay, if the bakers appeared. I found a stale 
loaf and chopped it in four with the big knife 
near the counter. The way that poor fellow 
bit into it brought tears to my eyes. 

"Wait a minute," I said as he turned away, 
and I rushed out to the court where my cart 
was standing. In a moment I was back with 
a slice of ham and some sweet chocolate and 
Julie came up with a glass of water. 

I was about to ask questions when another 
form appeared, followed by still another. 
[182] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

"Bread — oh, for heaven's sake, bread!" they 
implored. Apparently there was no reason 
why I should not go on with my new trade 
until all the hungry chauffeurs in the army 
were satisfied. But remembering the wounded, 
I turned over my job to Julie, with orders to 
deal out the bread as long as it lasted and to 
go lightly with the chocolate, as my provision 
was not endless. 

What a different aspect the main square 
presented to that of an hour before! Motors 
were lined up four deep on all sides, and I 
was obliged to elbow my way through the 
crowds of gapers, refugees, and officers that 
thronged the street. 

"Have you come for the wounded?" ques- 
tioned a white-capped sister as I closed the 
convent door and strode up the steps. 

"Yes, sister." 

"Heaven be praised! Come this way, 
quickty. Your nurse is here, but cannot suffice 
alone. We're of no use — there are only five 
of us to look after the almshouse, and a hun- 
dred refugees. We know nothing of surgery 
or bandaging." 

All this was said sweetly and quietly as we 
[ 183 ] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

hurried down a long corridor. In the middle 
of a big, well-lighted room stood Madame Guix 
bandaging the arm of a fine looking fellow, 
who shut his eyes and grated his teeth as she 
worked. On a half-dozen chairs sat as many 
men, some holding their heads in their hands, 
some doubled in two, others clenching their 
fists in agony. Not a murmur escaped them. 
The floor in several places was stained with 
great red patches. 

"Quick, Madame Huard. We must stop the 
hemorrhages at all costs. The wounds are not 
bad, since the men have come on foot, but one 
never can tell with this heat." 

A sister tied a white apron around me and 
in a second I had washed my hands and begun. 

The first shirt I split, my heart leapt to my 
lips. I was neither a novice nor a coward, but 
the sight of human blood flowing so generously 
and given so ungrudgingly, gave me a queer 
feeling in my throat. A second later that had 
all passed over and as I worked I questioned 
the young fellows as to home and family — 
and finally at what place they had been 
wounded. Some did not know, others named 
unfamiliar corners, but JLa Tretoire startled 
[ 184 ] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

me. Our morning halt! Then the invaders 
had crossed the Marne? For these were not 
wounds from exploding shell but Mauser bul- 
lets and pistol shots! 

Meanwhile the sisters brought iron beds and 
soft mattresses into the next room, and each 
boy in turn was put to rest. Fortunately there 
was nothing very serious, for we had no doctor 
and knew not where to find one. When we 
reached our last patient he was so limp that we 
feared he would faint. Imagine, if you can, 
what it is to cut away a stout pair of trooper's 
boots, and undress an almost helpless man 
whose clothes are fairly glued to the skin with 
blood, dirt and perspiration. 

"Hold the ammonia closer to his nose," said 
Madame Guix, tugging at a wire that served 
as boot lace. 

"I'm afraid he's exhausted. There he 
goes — " I had just time to catch the body as 
it slid from the chair. 

Madame Guix grasped his wrist. 

"His pulse is good. Hold fast till I get 
my needle." 

The boy's lips parted and a familiar sound 
filled the room. 

[185] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

"He's not fainted!" I gasped. "He's asleep! 
Snoring!" 

Poor little fellow, a bullet in the shoulder 
and one in the shin, and yet fatigue had over- 
come the pain ! When we finally had to wake 
him, he apologized so nicely for the trouble 
he had given us, and sighed with delight when 
he touched the cool linen sheets. 

"You must have found me a pretty mess. I 
haven't been out of my saddle for three weeks, 
and we've been fighting every minute since we 
left Charleroi." 

Our patients all asleep, Madame Guix and 
I sought a moment's rest in the open. A door 
in the corridor led out into a lovely old-world 
garden, surrounded on four sides by a deli- 
cately pilastered cloister. The harvest moon 
shone down, covering everything with a silver 
sheen, and such quiet and calm reigned that 
it was almost impossible to believe that we 
were not visitors to some famous landscape, 
leisurely enjoying a long-planned trip. 

We were given no time to dream, however, 

for hasty footsteps in the corridor and the 

appearance of a white-robed sister carrying a 

gun, told us that our task was not yet finished. 

[186] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

On a bench in the cloister, his head buried 
in one arm, the other tied up in an impromptu 
sling, we found a blue-coated soldier. He was 
the image of despair, and though we gently 
questioned him, he only shook his head from 
side to side without answering. Finally I sat 
down on the bench beside him and gently strok- 
ing his well arm, pleaded that he would tell us 
his trouble so that we might help him. He 
drew his head up with a jerk, and turning on 
me with an almost furious look in his big black 
eyes, he snapped, "Are you married?" 

"Yes." 

"Then you know what it is. My God, my 
wife and babies, shut up in Valenciennes. It 
isn't this that's killing me," he continued, slap- 
ping his bandaged arm. "It's only a flesh 
wound in the shoulder. But it's the other — the 
other thoughts. I've seen them at their work, 
the pack of cursed cowards! but if they ever 
touch my wife! Perhaps they have, the dirty 
blackguards, and I'm not there to defend her. 
Curse them all!" 

And he beat his fist on his knees in rage. 
Then anger, and agony having reached a 
paroxysm, his lips trembled, his mouth 
[187] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

twitched, and brusquely throwing his arm 
around my neck, he buried his head on my 
shoulder and burst into tears. 

The first instant of surprise over, it would 
have been stupid to be offended. The circum- 
stances were such that it was impossible not 
to be moved. 

I had never seen a man weep before; I 
never want to again. For a full quarter-hour 
he sobbed like a child — this great sturdy fellow 
of thirty-five, and through the mist in my eyes 
I could see that my companion had turned her 
back on us and was fumbling for her hand- 
kerchief in her pocket. 

Then little by little the choking sound dis- 
appeared, his shoulders ceased to heave and 
shake, and a moment later our soldier lifted his 
head and blubbered an apology. 

"Forgive me — you've done me so much good. 
I know I'm a fool, but it had to come — I just 
couldn't stand it another minute — " and other 
similar phrases, which we nipped in the bud 
by asking if he would like a cup of hot soup, 
or come into the dispensary when we could 
bandage his wound. 

"Anywhere where it's light. I want you 
[188] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

to see her picture — she'd think you're 
great." 

And so before he would let us touch his 
wound, we had to feel in his breast pocket and 
draw forth a wallet from which he produced 
the cherished photographs. 

At length we completed his bandaging and 
I left Madame Guix to add the finishing 
touches and went to the kitchen where Soeur 
Laurent was standing over a huge range, la- 
dling soup from two immense copper boilers. 
There were men, women and children holding 
out cups and mugs, a half-dozen dusty cavalry- 
men were skinning two rabbits in one corner, 
and as many other soldiers were peeling vege- 
tables which they threw into another pot full 
of boiling water. 

This w^as no time to ask permission. The 
poor sister was already half distracted by the 
demands of the famished refugees and comba- 
tants, so taking a ladle from the wall, I dipped 
into the pot and strained some bouillon into 
a few cups that I found in a cupboard. I 
intended giving this to our patients should 
they wake and call for drink, and I was just 
lifting my tray to go when a loud thumping 
[189] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

on the front door made me set it down in 
haste. 

I looked at Soeur Laurent, who was prepar- 
ing to answer the summons, much to the dismay 
of the soldiers. 

"I'll go," I called, and hurried out into the 
vestibule and down the wide white marble 
steps. As I threw back the huge oak door 
someone brushed past me, calling "Two men 
and a stretcher," and there in the brilliant 
moonlight I beheld the most ghastly spectacle 
I had as yet witnessed. 

Thrown forward in his saddle, his arms 
clasped about the horse's neck, was the form 
of a dragoon. The animal that bore him had 
once been white, but was now so splashed with 
blood that it was impossible to tell what color 
was his originally. Both man and beast were 
wounded, badly wounded, and how they had 
come here was a miracle. 

The alarm had reached the kitchen and 
hurrying forward, the troopers soon lifted 
their comrade from his mount and carried him 
in. A lance had pierced his thigh and the 
horse's flank, which meant that it had been a 
hand-to-hand fight, and the blood still flowing 
[ 190 ] 



MY HOME IN THE EIELD OF HONOUR 

freely, proved that the combat was not an hour 

old! 

when the white faces of my notary and his wife 

Madame Guix and I were doing our best 
appeared at the door of the dispensary. 

*' Madame Huard, we've come to tell you 
you must go!" 

"Go?" 

"Yes, it is two o'clock and the general who 
was quartered on us slept four hours and has 
gone. When leaving he warned us that the 
battle would be on here by morning. We who 
have a motor are safe, but you who have but 
horses must flee at once!" 

"But I can't leave the wounded!" 

"But you must. The worst that can happen 
to them is to be made prisoners — more than 
likely they will be carried away by one of our 
emergency ambulances. But think of all the 
young people who look to you for protection ! 
You cannot desert them; you must go!" 

I looked at Madame Guix. 

"Go, Madame Huard, you must. You owe 
it to the others. None of you need me and I 
can be of service here, so if the sisters will keep 
me I'll stay." 

[191] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

Reluctantly I shook hands with my nurse, 
and hastened down the steps. Maitre Baudoin 
and his wife took leave of me at the corner, 
and I elbowed my way between the horses of 
a cavalry regiment, whose riders were sound 
asleep on the hard cobble pavement beside 
them. 

On the further side of the square noisy roll- 
ing sounds told me that the artillery was cross- 
ing the city, and mounting a doorstep, I beheld 
battery after battery of the famous Seventy- 
fives clattering out of sight over the road we 
had come by in the morning. When I got 
down, I found my way blocked by the 18th 
Chasseurs a cheval, who, four abreast and lance 
in hand, were setting out for battle. They 
were anything but a beaten army — most of 
them were softly humming some popular song, 
while others were calmly filling their pipes and 
still others catching forty winks in their 
saddles. One or two I noticed wore no caps, 
and their heads were boimd in blood-stained 
bandages. 

There seemed to be no end to them and I 
was beginning to get anxious about our de- 
parture. Plunging my hand into my coat 
[ 192 ] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

pocket I touched a piece of stale bread and a 
bit of chocolate, forgotten since the day before, 
and hunger having seized me, I began gnawing 
my crust. 

"Say, sister, give us a bite," called one young 
chap from his horse as he passed. 

"Are you really hungry?" 

"You bet!" 

Without hesitating I offered my crust. 

"Hurray for the girl with the red scarf!" 
called another. "Come on with us. We'll 
make room for you." "We need a mascot," 
and other similar jolly phrases passed from 
mouth to mouth as gaily the flower of young 
France went forth to death. 

When finally they had disappeared I rushed 
across the street to find George and Emile 
(H.'s messenger) engaged in a conversation 
with the driver of an army supply wagon 
drawn up within an inch of the bakery steps. 
Beside him on the seat sat a huge dragoon, his 
head done up in a blood-stained towel. 

"We're lost," he was explaining. "Been cut 
off from our regiment for three days." 

"Poor regiment!" I murmured, and calling 
the boys, I told Emile to wake the others and 
[193] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

come down quickly to help hitch the horses. 
He was only gone a second, and I could hear 
him calling. 

''Allons, allons, Madame part de suite/' 

Then he reappeared carrying a lantern. 

"Where the devil did you get the light?" 
growled George. 

"In their room." 

"Then how in the name of heaven do you 
expect those people to dress and roll up their 
belongings in the dark?" I scolded. "Here, 
George, go back with the lantern." 

George obeyed orders, and Emile, rather 
sheepishly, skulked away in the direction of 
the stable yard. I heard a sliding door pushed 
open, followed by a long low whistle, and a 
second later Emile reappeared, his eyes pop- 
ping out of his head with astonishment. 

"There's a horse missing — been stolen!" 

"No! Impossible!" 

"The stable's empty!" 

I hurried to the spot, and found that he told 
the truth. 

"George!" I called, as my boy came around 
the corner of the house. "George, Cesar's been 
stolen!" 

[194] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

**Who says so, Madame?" 

*'Emile — the stable's empty." 

Calmly and easily George walked over to- 
wards Emile, and taking him by the collar, 
shook him violently. "Look here, you! What 
do you mean by frightening Madame like that? 
Are you her servant? No! Well, then, mind 
your own business!" 

And opening a second door alongside the 
other, we found Cesar and Sausage munching 
their oats. 

It was no easy job harnessing in the dark 
and backing the heavy carts out of the narrow 
yard into the still narrower street. But in ten 
minutes our caravan was again en route. 

We crossed the public square, now almost 
empty of men, horses and motors, and took 
the only road leading south. 

The first grey streaks of daylight lighted the 
east as we turned the corner, and we were 
obliged to pull suddenly to the extreme right, 
for a heavy Parisian motorbus swung round 
the bend and rushed on past us. 

Straining my eyes, I perceived that there 
was not one but hundreds of them, following 
each other at top speed down the hill. There 
[195] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

were armed men standing inside them, armed 
men on the platforms and steps, armed men 
even on the roofs and it was indeed a strange 
sight to see Madeleine-Bastille and the Galeries 
Lafayette out here in the open country, 
jammed full of grim infantrymen preparing 
for the fray. 

Suddenly a tremendous explosion rent the 
air and shook the ground so that the horses 
stopped and trembled. 

"There goes the bridge at Nogent!" cried 
George. "No — the power house at La 
Tretoire!" 

^'En avantr I called, knowing that the 
signal for battle had now been given. 



[196] 



VI 

We had gone about two miles when the sight 
of my greyhounds tied behind the farm cart 
made me think of my httle Boston bull. 

"Where's Betsy?" I asked of those perched 
on the hay. 

Julie, Nini and Yvonne grew white. 

It took little time to discover that no one had 
seen her that morning. It was evident she had 
been forgotten — left to die tied to the brass 
rail inside an abandoned bakery, for it was 
there I had fastened her on arriving the night 
before. Pedaling ahead till I reached Leon 
who led the procession — 

"Keep straight on this road. If it should 
fork, take the direction of the La Ferte- 
Gauche. I'll be back in no time." Then turn- 
ing about, I started a parallel race with an 
autobus, much to the delight of the occupants. 

Useless to say that my adversary gained on 
the up-grade, turned the corner, was gone, and 
was followed by another long before I reached 
[ 197 1 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

the public square, breathless and full of 
anxiety. 

Rebais was empty — not even a tardy refugee 
straggled by the wayside, and before I reached 
the bakery I could hear the plaintive howls 
of my little brute. 

What a joyful welcome I received. What 
hilarious waggings of that little screw tail ! But 
there was no time to be lost, for the problem 
now was how Betsy was to catch up with the 
procession. She was too heavy for me to carry 
under my arm, and too old and puffy to be 
expected to follow a bicycle — but it was one 
or the other, and tying her leash to the handle 
bar, off we started, after an encouraging pat 
on the head and the promise of a lump of sugar 
if she would only "be a good girl." 

On we sped, past the huge lumbering motor- 
buses, which terrified the poor animal who 
tugged vehemently at her string, at times al- 
most choking herself. 

In half an hour we had caught up with the 
caravan, and as I lifted poor exhausted Betsy 
on to the hay, Nini roused from her dozing and 
pointing to the east, said, "Oh, look! what a 
big fire!" 

[198] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

"You silly child, it's the sun rising; go back 
to sleep," I said, terrified by what I had seen, 
but unwilling to alarm the others uselessly. 

At the skyline of an immense plain that 
stretched on our left, huge columns of flame 
burst heavenward, covered a moment later by 
dense black smoke. Fortunately, however, the 
sun peeped over the horizon almost instantly, 
thereby diminishing the intensity of the con- 
flagration. But Nini was not to be thus hood- 
winked. 

"See," she continued, "what funny little 
fluffy clouds those are!" 

"Nini, if you don't go to sleep at once you'll 
have to get down and walk, and let one of the 
boys take your place. They'll be only too 
glad to, I know." 

Nini obeyed instantly. She had come away 
with but one pair of shoes (in spite of my 
admonition to take all the footwear she pos- 
sessed) and that pair of shoes pinched. 

Funny little fluffy clouds indeed! The 
shaking of the earth beneath my feet and a 
second of reflection told me they were not 
clouds, but shells — and how long it would be 
before they would be directed westward was 
[199] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

a question that chilled the blood in my 
veins. 

The town we were heading for — La Ferte- 
Gauche — lay southeast. Though I had no 
glass, it was evident that it was now under the 
enemies' fire, and we might just as well run 
our necks into a noose as keep on in that direc- 
tion. It was southwest — or nothing. 

Without offering any explanation I rode 
ahead and told Leon to follow me. Then 
turning abruptly to the right, I took the first 
sidepath that was wide enough for our cart 
wheels, and in and out, up and down, we fol- 
lowed it for over an hour, until coasting down 
a steep incline, I found myself in the midst 
of a delightful little village, nestled between 
two hills on the border of a river. 

The shops were just opening and people 
were going about their work as if nothing un- 
usual were happening. They gazed in aston- 
ishment at this hatless bicyclist, who wore a 
Red Cross armlet, and when I went into the 
baker shop, I was filled with joy at the sight 
of all the crisp loaves lined up in their racks 
ready for delivery. 

Refugees ? 

[200] 



A 






i 



"X, „ -^I 



-J' 



i 



'■^^'■\>^:.^ 







i^i'. 






MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

They hadn't seen any. Someone had heard 
an unaccustomed movement of wagons during 
the night, that was all. 

A signpost, as I turned into the square, told 
me that I was at Jouy-sur-Morin, and a few 
moments later, I came upon a group of gentle- 
men in frock coats standing talking on an em- 
bankment below the church. If it had been 
in the afternoon instead of five A. M., I should 
have thought this assembly perfectly in har- 
mony with the landscape. In fact they looked 
so much like H.'s caricatures of his provincial 
compatriots that I couldn't help smiling as I 
passed. This matutinal gathering of the muni- 
cipal council was the only outward sign of 
anxiety to be found in this picturesque town- 
ship. 

The arrival of our caravan produced quite 
a sensation among the early risers at Jouy, 
though the enthusiasm for telling their 
story had somewhat subsided among my 
servants. They were footsore, sleepy, and 
hungry. 

The gentlemen in frock coats were too busy 
in their own affairs to give us much attention, 
and I was about to leave when one of them 
[201] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

called me over and asked a few questions. 
Anxious to be off, I answered briefly. The 
man probably took me for a poor demented 
female; how could he think otherwise down 
here in his little valley, where not a sound of 
gun and shell had penetrated as yet? 

History will tell you how, a few hours later, 
Jouy-sur-Morin was the scene of one of the 
bloodiest battles of the Marne. 

At the dairy, my appearance aroused much 
curiosity, and when I brought out the money 
to pay for my milk, the woman held up her 
hand. "No, never; I couldn't take pay from 
such forlorn creatures as you!" 

This unexpected pity brought the blood to 
my cheeks. I was hot with indignation. Until 
now we had wanted for nothing, and with gold 
in my pocket charity was an insult. I straight- 
ened my tie, looked at my dusty boots, and 
realized for the first time that my face was 
drawn with fatigue and anxiety — that my hair, 
though tidy, was sadly out of curl. Leaving 
my change on the table, I turned on my heel 
and departed. Explanations were tiresome 
and useless. 

We crossed a railroad track and then the 
[202] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

river — the Grand Morin — and in a grass- 
grown granite quarry halted for breakfast, 
sheltering ourselves from the blistering sun in 
the shade of the immense rocks. 

The boys took the horses down to the river 
to drink and bathe, and a few seconds later 
came back for towels and soap. 

What a happy idea! A quarter of a mile 
higher up the bank I found a well secluded 
spot, and plunged into the refreshing current. 
It was the first time I had had my boots off 
since leaving Villiers. Thanks to a small 
pocket glass and a fresh white blouse, I made 
myself quite presentable and as I approached 
our camp, the appetizing odor of fresh fried 
country sausage tickled my nostrils and made 
me glad to be alive. 

Hot coffee accompanied by buttered toast 
had been prepared by the girls during my 
absence, and we needed no coaxing to persuade 
us to do the meal justice. Already accustomed 
to this gypsy life, George's dry humor began to 
show itself, and now and again the silence 
would be broken by peals of laughter, caused 
by some quaint joke. 

We lingered lovingly over the repast, and I 
[203] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

was trying to decide whether or not we would 
push on at once or wait and rest until after- 
noon when suddenly my question was answered 
for me. 

While we had been clearing up and loading 
the carts a long train of freight cars had noise- 
lessly glided down the rails opposite our 
quarry, and had halted without pulling into 
the station. There was nothing abnormal in 
this, and from where we sat a trifle below the 
level of the track, we could see but little of 
what was going on on the opposite platform. 
Standing upright in my charette, carefully 
folding a blanket so as to take up the least 
possible space, my eye was attracted by several 
red specks scurrying up a steep incline. A mo- 
ment afterwards my gaze drifted downward 
and I realized that from the innocent looking 
freight cars hundreds of armed soldiers were 
disembarking and spreading themselves out, 
en tirailleurs, preparing an attack in ambush. 
I had seen this same pretty feat successfully 
accomplished at the grand manosuvres, the 
year before, but it was another thing entirely 
when one grasped that these men were in dead 
earnest. 

[204] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

Just then a buggy, containing a dishevelled 
woman and collarless man, galloped over the 
crossing and sped westward. The occupants, 
whom I hailed, did not deign a reply, but beck- 
oning with their arms, enjoined me to follow 
them. 

"It's time to break camp," I said, "if we in- 
tend to reach the next town before it gets too 
hot." 

So off we started, preceded by a heavy de- 
livery wagon, a Familistere from the north, 
which crossed the rails just as we were pulling 
onto the road. It was a big covered affair, 
filled to overflowing with bedding and house- 
hold utensils — and even the top was loaded 
with huge boxes and baskets of provisions. 
Behind it walked, or rather trotted, three stout 
women and a man, the former half -crazed with 
heat and anxiety, mopping their brows and 
their tears as the cortege advanced. 

An hour and a half of steady climbing quite 
exhausted them, and when we reached the level, 
the three graces collapsed by the roadside, 
still weeping copiously. I observed this as I 
approached, and presently saw their com- 
panion mounted on the high hind wheel of their 
[ 205 ] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

wagon, gaiing intently towards the east 
through a pair of field glasses. 

"What can you see?" I asked as the charette 
passed by them. 

"Come and have a look. It's worth while. 
My wife and family are too frightened." 

I halted, and climbing up by the spokes 
reached the top, and steadying myself with 
my left hand, took the proffered glass with 
my right. 

From one extremity to the other of the wide 
plains, from which we were separated by the 
valley of the Grand Morin, those same long 
columns of dense black smoke rose lazily in the 
brilliant sunlight. Into some determined spot 
the enemy was pouring a perfect rain of shot 
and shell, and the dust rising after each ex- 
plosion formed a curtain that blotted out the 
rest of the landscape. Below, the Senegalais 
had disappeared in ambush, but now and again 
the distant clattering of the mitrailleuse told us 
they were at their deadly work. And to think 
all this was happening on ground we had 
traveled over only a few hours since! And I 
had been fool enough to go back to Rebais 
alone to recover my dog! 
[206] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

I shuddered as I got down. What was the 
use of trying to hurry? We couldn't go any 
faster than the horses, and if we overworked 
them now we would have to rest longer later 
on. So, urging our poor old nags, we trudged 
along the sun-baked roads between the high 
grown wheatfields of the Brie country. 

Still another couple of hours and we had 
reached Choisy-en-Brie, found a stable for our 
animals, and we ourselves stretched out on our 
blankets beneath the friendly shadow of the 
big stone church. 

I had finished luncheon and was just dozing 
off when a motor horn roused me from my 
lethargy. A second later I recognized Maitre 
Baudoin and his wife, the latter holding their 
four-year-old daughter on her knees, her 
grandmother sitting alone in the back seat 
which was piled high with important docu- 
ments, and their maid strapped to the steps of 
the car. 

We set up a shout which stopped them. 
"We stayed until a shell burst on the house 
next door, then we thought it was time to go," 
explained Maitre Baudoin. 

"What time did you leave Rebais?" 
[207] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

"Forty minutes ago. You'd better be mov- 
ing, too." 

"Sorry, but I can't. The horses must rest." 

"Well, don't wait too long. Adieu." 

"Adieu," and they were off. 

I returned to my blanket and again was just 
closing my eyes when the unexpected sound of 
Gregorian chant made me sit up. Nearer 
and nearer it drew, louder and louder rose the 
priests' voices, and then a much-befringed and 
flower-laden hearse, preceded by the clergy 
and followed by the mourners (the men in 
evening dress and the women in their Sunday 
clothes), rounded the corner, passed in front 
of us, and halted before the main door of the 
church. 

I couldn't help smiling. The incongruity of 
this pompous enterrement de premiere classe, 
en musique, when the city was imminently 
menaced by a German bombardment, bordered 
on the pathetic and the ridiculous. However, 
the family of the defunct did not think so, and 
their deceased parent was chanted to eternity 
with all the rites and ceremonies that his will 
had provided for. 

Personally I was delighted at the idea of 
[208] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

going to sleep to the sound of the organ, which 
pierced the thick granite walls and almost 
drowned the rumble of the cannon, to which 
we had now become so accustomed that we had 
ceased to be alarmed. 

''Des soldatsT cried someone. 

In a second I was on my feet. 

"Where?" 

"Two — on bicycles, going into the hotel 
opposite." 

I reached there as soon as they did. Their 
story was brief. 

"We're the forerunners of a cavalry depot, 
being transferred to Rozoy from Montmirail. 
It's getting too hot down there! How far is 
it to Rozoy?" 

I pulled out my map. 

"Seventeen kilometres." 

"Oh, Lord!" 

And the poor fellows wiped the great beads 
of perspiration from their dusty necks and 
faces. 

"Bring up a bottle of wine. I'll stand for 
the drinks," called a man from a corner of the 
cafe. 

"What regiment do you belong to?" 
[209] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

^'UEscadron du train/' 

My heart leapt with expectancy. 

"Do you know a man named H.?" 

"No." 

My disappointment was even greater than 
my joy. 

"How many horses are you taking to 
Rozoy?" 

"Two hundred and some." 

"At what time will they pass here?" 

"They're due in half an hour, if they don't 
get cornered by the Bodies on the way. We 
had a close call ourselves." And swallowing 
their glasses of white wine and water, they 
were on their bicycles and gone, before we 
could get any further details. 

I had now had enough experience to know 
that it was high time to take to the road if we 
didn't wish to be captured. Yet it seemed un- 
fair to go and leave some two-score innocent 
people praying for the soul of their dear de- 
parted to a long drawn-out musical accompani- 
ment. So while the boys were harnessing I 
entered the sanctuary and approaching the 
chancel by a side aisle, beckoned an altar boy 
and whispered in his ear words to the effect 
[210] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

that the curate would better hurry his mass 
and thereby give his flock time to escape the 
invaders. 

I said this calmly, and hoped he would follow 
my example in delivering my message, but 
imagine if you can the effect produced by this 
frightened individual, who, lifting his hands in 
the air, cried out in terror, ''Vite, viie. Mon- 
sieur le Cure! Voila les PrussiensT 

I didn't wait to see what happened, but went 
out and joined my group, which was making 
ready to start. How far advanced was mass 
when I entered the church I did not observe, 
but what I do know is that it finished abruptly 
after my warning, and the poor hearse horse 
never before galloped towards the cemetery of 
Choisy at such a pace nor in such an undigni- 
fied manner. As to the mourners, they fairly 
fiew beside it, greatly diminished in number, 
the others scattering like chaff before the 
wind. 

The half-hour's interval allowed by the 
cyclists for the horses to arrive was far over- 
lapped by the time we once again took the road, 
but the sound of the cannonade had gradually 
grown closer. 

[211] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

Wearied by this constant changing of camp, 
I made up my mind to go far enough in this 
next move to be able to really rest for a day 
or so. Consulting my map, I discovered Jouy- 
le-Chatel to be at what I judged a safe dis- 
tance — ^nearly thirty kilometres and consider- 
ably south of Paris. The afternoon was still 
young, so we would have time to make the 
town before dark. At any rate, I told George 
to accompany me and explained that he and 
I would ride ahead full speed, and arrange for 
beds and a dinner by the time the others should 
arrive. They were instructed not to let the 
dark halt them, but to come on. Secretly I 
hoped that this would be our last stretch and 
that we would be able to remain at Jouy until 
it was wise to start homeward. 

It was an uneventful trip from Choisy to 
Jouy. The roads were excellent, though very 
undulating and the only incident that marked 
our journey Vv^as an intoxicated individual who 
jumped across our path and, putting his hand 
on my handle bar, demanded tearfully what I 
had done with his wife and children. 

I declared myself innocent in the matter, 
which angered him considerably. 
[212] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 



"Now I know you're a spy ! Get down- 



George did not give him time to finish the 
phrase, but with a well-measured blow, sent him 
sprawling in the brambled ditch and we beat 
a hasty rereat without looking back. 

It was night by the time we reached Jouy, 
and at the entrance of the city I enquired for 
the best hotel. 

''Le Grand Turc — but the proprietress is 
closing up, making ready to leave." 

"What! Here? You don't mean to say 
the scare has reached this place, too?" 

"Well, we've had so many refugees these 
days that the women got frightened and want 
to go." 

George and I parted company, he to see 
what he could find since the best hotel was 
denied us, and I, undaunted, started off to try 
to persuade the proprietress to let us in. 

After much rattling at the door handles and 
pounding on the shutters, an acrid female voice 
enjoined me to be gone. 

"I'm closing up and leaving." 

"Leaving? What for?" 

"To escape the Germans!" 

"How foolish! They'll never reach here. 
[ 213 ] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

I've just come from the Marne and expected 
to find board and lodgings for my staff until 
the war is over." 

That encouraged her and cracking the door, 
she put her head out. 

"I belong to the Red Cross. Here's my 
badge and my carte d'identite. Don't you 
think you could find room for me?" 

"Well, we're packing up, but we'll have to 
wait for our horses, which are at a farm seven 
miles from here. The farmer said he'd come 
if there was any danger." 

"Well, you see there isn't or he'd be here by 
now." 

My hostess seemed convinced and opening 
the door a little wider, let me pass. 

"How many of you are there?" 

"Fourteen." 

"Good heavens! Fourteen rooms? Never!" 

"I don't ask that, my good woman. If you 
can find a bed for me and happen to have a 
hay loft or covered shed, the others will be glad 
enough to sleep there. As to the meals, we 
have our own provisions and will cook out- 
side. It's a little late to-night, however, so 
if you could manage to give them a cup of hot 
[214] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

soup and an omelet when they arrive, I'd make 
it worth your while." 

She consented to the compromise, and sent 
one of her daughters to prepare my room. I 
then dispatched George, whose bicycle bell I 
heard ringing in the street, to the city gate to 
await and conduct the remainder of our party. 
In the hour that elapsed before their arrival 
I gained in the hostess's good graces by lancing 
a festered finger and bandaging her small 
daughter's skinned knee. 

When the others arrived, George, who had 
not been idle during his wait, told me that Jouy 
was almost empty of inhabitants, and that 
most of the people from Mery-sur-Marne, a 
village near Villiers, were lodging for the night 
on bales of hay in the school house and town 
hall. 

Our meal over, none of us needed persuading 
to retire and the idea of a bed lured me early 
to my room. 

Naturally a light sleeper, I was constantly 
awakened by the coming and going and the 
conversation of our proprietress, who kept on 
packing right through the night. Another 
time I was roused by a bell ringing up and 
[215] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

down the street, which passed beneath my 
window, and a deep mascuHne voice that en- 
joined all the people from Mery to hurry to the 
town hall. The wagons were leaving in a 
quarter of an hour. 

"Poor fools," thought I, and rolled over in 
my bed. 

As it grew light, I could see the interminable 
stream of refugees passing up the road, and 
when I had dressed and hastened to the court- 
yard I found the others had already kindled 
a fire and tea was awaiting me. 

"At what time should we start, Madame?" 

"Start where?" 

"I haven't the slightest intention of going 
any farther. Haven't you all had enough of 
this kind of traveling?" 

The reply was affirmative and unanimous! 

"The noise of the cannon is hardly audible 
this morning, which is a very encouraging sign, 
I'm sure, so we'll try to make ourselves com- 
fortable until it's safe to go home." 

And leaving Julie in charge, I set off by my- 
self, glad of a moment's solitude. 

In my wanderings I found the church door 
[216] 



MY HOME IN THE EIELD OF HONOUR 

open, and entering, rejoiced in the peace that 
reigned within. It calmed my anxiety and as 
I withdrew my thoughts were clearer, and the 
burden of my responsibility seemed lightened. 

On my way to the hotel I was accosted by 
a woman who, with a baby in her arms, was 
leading a cow behind her. 

"Don't you want some milk?" 

"I hardly think so." 

"Please take it. You see, I've only saved 
my baby and my cow, and I have to milk the 
latter twice a day. I can't carry all she gives, 
so I keep what's necessary and throw the rest 
away. It seems like such a waste." 

I agreed with her, and directed her towards 
the hotel court. She would take no remu- 
neration and thanking me, hastened on her 
way. 

As I watched her go someone touched me on 
the arm and asked me if I would go to the town 
hall; there were two refugees who needed as- 
sistance. There I found a very old couple — 
brother and sister, the eldest aged ninety-two, 
the other two years younger. They were from 
Mery, had lodged in a private house in Jouy, 
and were so decrepit that they had not arisen 
[ 217 ] 



MY HOME IN THE EIELD OF HONOUR 

in time to catch the wagons which bore away 
their fellow townsmen the night before. Thi» 
had so upset the old man that he had broken 
down and lay moaning on the straw, while the 
mild little woman explained that the being left 
behind was not what troubled her, but it was 
her purse and belongings that had been 
carried off in the carts. 

I comforted them as best I could, promising 
to send them hot milk and biscuits, and wonder- 
ing what else I could do for them. Any way 
they should not starve, as long as we remained 
in Jouy. 

Luncheon was well under way when I re- 
turned to the hotel. In a pot, standing on an 
iron tripod in the middle of the paved court, 
a rabbit was gently stewing. In another, a 
fricassee of chicken smelled temptingly good. 
The women and girls were peeling potatoes 
and onions, which were to cook in the sauce and 
a peal of laughter went up from the merry 
group when a few moments later George and 
Emile appeared, covered with flour and dough 
from head to foot, and each bearing a bottle 
of white wine under his arm. 

"What on earth have you boys been up to?" 
[ 218 ] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

"Behold in us the city bakers!" said George 
with a wave of the hand and he and his com- 
panion struck an attitude which again drew 
forth much hilarity from the onlookers. 

"It's no joke — there wasn't a baker left in 
the place, so we found an old fellow who said 
he'd show us how, and the dough is now setting. 
By three o'clock we'll have fresh bread, you see 
if we don't!" 

From the window the proprietress and her 
daughters watched our impromptu kitchen 
with interest. We formed such an amusing 
group that, handing my kodak to Leon, I told 
him to catch us as I bent over to taste the sauce. 

Snap went the shutter ! 

At that same instant a shriek rose from the 
interior of the hotel. Looking up I saw that 
the proprietress and her two daughters had 
disappeared. 

"Au secours! Au secoursT 

The boys and I made a rush for the house. 
As we entered the grande salle, we saw a man 
bearing a human form in his arms staggering 
through the door. Through the blood and dust 
that smeared the unfortunate boy's clothing, I 
recognized the uniform of a chasseur. Not 
[219] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

even an emergency bandage stopped the stream 
that was flowing from his cheek. 

"Quick — a mattress!" I shouted. 

The proprietress stood as though nailed to 
the doorway leading to the kitchen. 

"Is he wounded?" 

"No matter — a mattress !" 

"But he might soil it—" 

"Then I'll pay for it — but for the love of 
heaven, be quick!" 

Just then the boy's head lurched forward and 
the blood poured from his mouth. Leon 
jumped to help the old man who was holding 
him, and I had just time to catch the proprie- 
tress as she swooned on the floor. 

"Put the boy on the billiard table and stuff 
this blanket under his head," I said, grabbing 
the article mentioned from the top of a bundle 
near by. "Come in here!" I called to the two 
daughters who were blubbering in the next 
room, terrified at what they had seen. "Come 
in here — lay her flat, loosen her clothes, and 
dash some cold water over her. She's not dead 
— and I've no time to bother with her." 

While others laid the wounded man out on 
the table, I rushed for my emergency case 
[220] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

which I had fortunately thought to bring 
along. 

With a sharp pair of scissors, I cut away the 
bloody garments and with a little warm water 
washed my patient so I could see what was the 
matter. He was but half conscious, and his 
eyes rolled wildly and his hand grasped mine 
and wrung it in agony. 

I discovered a tiny cheek wound and was 
congratulating myself that perhaps the bullet 
had lodged in the flesh, when on turning his 
head gently to one side, I was almost nau- 
seated by the terrible wound that greeted my 
eyes. 

Either a Mauser pistol or an explosive bullet 
fired at but short distance had entered the 
cheek and gouged its way through the lad's 
head, carrying away part of the ear and well — 
let us not go any further. 

"Is there a doctor in the place still?" I 
called to the cook who stood looking in at the 
door. "Run and see if you can get him — for 
I'm incompetent here. Quick! It's life or 
death!" 

And while she was gone I stuif ed cotton and 
iodine into the tremendous cavity, hoping to 
[221] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

stop the hemorrhage. As I bandaged, I ques- 
tioned the man who had brought him. 

*'Where did you pick him up?" 

"AmiUis — a mile and a half from here. The 
Uhlans fired into me, too, when they saw me 
help him. Look at the sole of my shoe! 
They're following close on behind." 

I stepped to the window. "George and 
Leon! Quick! Drop everything. Hitch and 
get out of here like lightning! I'll follow in 
this man's cart. Hitch and I'll tell you where 
to go." 

Fricasseed chicken and rabbit stew were for- 
gotten and I could hear my people running 
wildly about the court, obeying orders. 

The doctor appeared. I explained. "Shall 
I unbandage?" 

"Useless." 

"Then don't say so out loud, as he's not yet 
unconscious." 

The poor fellow gripped my hand as proof. 
The physician blushed scarlet. 

"I'll give him an injection of ether and then 
you take him in your cart to the nearest hos- 
pital — it's Provins — twenty miles from here." 

He jabbed in the needle, and then handing 
[ 222 ] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

it with a phial to me : "Here — take this. I'm 
clearing out. Got a wife and baby to save. 
Keep his heart going — there's a ghost of a 
chance. Adieu!" 

I stood petrified. 

"Take him away, I'm closing up ! Take him 
away — " screamed the hostess, who had recov- 
ered from her swoon. 

I looked at the old man who had brought 
the boy. 

"Where are you going with your cart?" 

"To Coulommiers — to save my sister-in-law 
and her children." 

"Good God, man! Can't you see that if 
this boy was wounded at Amillis your road 
to Coulommiers is cut off!" 

"It may not be." 

"There's no time to argue. My wagons are 
full to overflowing. Are you going to let this 
boy stay and be finished by the Germans, or 
are you going to let me put him in your cart 
and drive to a hospital?" 

"But Provins must be occupied by this time. 
It's east of here." 

"I never had any intention of going there. 
I'm heading for Melun." 
[223] 



MY HOME IN THE EIELD OF HONOUR 

"Melun?" 

"Yes." 

*'Good heavens! That's seventy kilometres! 
My poor sister-in-law! my horse!" wailed the 
old fellow. 

"Now then — one, two, three — " said I, 
gently patting my Browning which I had 
drawn from my outside pocket. "Will you 
do it gracefully? That's right. Now stop your 
crying. I'll release you as soon as I can find 
someone else to take me on. The important 
thing is to get out of here and quick ! It may 
be too late now." 

The boys had fetched a mattress, had 
found pillows and a sheet, somewhere, and 
gently we laid the dying man on the old 
farm cart. 

"You boys take your bikes and go ahead. 
Tell the refugees you meet to pull to the right 
and not encumber the whole road. We're rush- 
ing a wounded man to the hospital. When I 
think you've got the way clear I'll drive on 
full speed. Tell our carts to head for Melun 
and keep on going till they get there. I can't 
bother with them. We'll meet at the first 
bridge over the Seine." 

[ 224 ] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUE 

They departed, and climbing in beside my 
patient, who writhed in agony, now lurching 
from one side, now rolling to the other, I tried 
to make him as comfortable as possible. All 
the other carts had departed ere we got away, 
and my tearful driver kept on grumbling and 
lamenting. 

Two hundred yards from the hotel, where 
the road makes a sharp turn, we halted 
abruptly, for we had come upon a group com- 
posed of my boy George and three French 
chasseurs. Two were on horseback, their naked 
swords glittering in the sunlight; the third on 
a bicycle — and all three, as well as George, 
were shrieking excitedly at a phlegmatic 
Tommy Atkins who, seated on a milestone, 
was calmly smoking his pipe. Behind him, his 
horse was peacefully nibbling grass. At the 
sight of my armlet and the agitated white sheet 
in the wagon, the chasseurs approached in 
haste. 

"What have you got there? Our comrade, 
Ballandreau?" 

"Yes." (I had seen the boy's name in his 
military book.) 

"Is he dead?" 

[225] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

"No." 

"Badly wounded?" 

"Yes." 

^'Parlez-vous anglais?'' they fairly bawled, 
all three at once. 

"Yes." 

"Then, for God's sake, tell that blockhead 
sitting on the stone and whose horse has gone 
lame, to seize the bicycle of that peasant 
standing there, and follow us." 

I translated politely. 

"Why?" queried the Englishman, drawing 
on his pipe. 

"Why?" I demanded of the chasseurs. 

"Why? Do you see that?" said one on a 
bicycle, wheeling around and pointing down 
the road behind us. "Do you see that? That's 
the Uhlans. The ones that got Ballandreau a 
half -hour ago, the ones that got my horse and 
the ones that will get us all if we stop here 
much longer." 

"The Uhlans!" I cried to Tommy, showing 
him the advancing forms of a half-dozen 
cavalrymen, whose black leather helmets shone 
in the sun a mile up the road. 

"There are seven of them — on patrol — seven 
[226] 








DOORS AND WINDOWS NO LONGER EXISTED [Page 261] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

hundred following ! Come, old fellow, it's now 
or never!" 

"And I — where shall I go?" I said, jumping 
into the cart, George following. 

"To the devil if you like, but quick!" 

The warning came none too soon. We had 
been seen, and sharp, whizzing noises in the 
grass, and over our heads told us that our 
German pursuers had no intention of letting us 
get away. 

"Down on your knees, man!" I yelled, pull- 
ing the old fellow with me as we ducked to the 
level of the dashboard. And unfastening a 
breastpin, I jabbed it mercilessly into the 
flanks of our nag, who bounded forward, nearly 
throwing us out. 

Whizz! Whizz! Whizz! 

It was as if a cloud of locusts were humming 
about us. 

Then when I lifted my eyes, on top of the 
steep incline we were ascending, I could see 
several uniformed horsemen and back of them 
a huge column of smoke. 

"Heavens!" I gasped, "we're caught this 
time — but it's too late now to turn about. 
We're prisoners for sure!" 
[227] 



MY HOME IN THE EIELD OF HONOUR 

Two cavalrymen then appeared and calmly 
started down the road in our direction. A 
second later I recognized the British uniform 
and breathed again. 

"Go back!" I yelled. "Go back! The Ger- 
mans are on our heels!" 

Astonished at hearing their native tongue, 
the men approached. 

"Thank heaven, here's someone to direct 
us," they said as they came alongside and 
saluted. 

I replied with a nod. 

"We're lost," they said, "cut off from our 
brigade." 

"That's nothing. How many of you are 
there? Enough to fight? The Germans are 
coming on hard and fast." 

"We're only two and our horses are done 
for. We were driven out of Coulommiers 
this morning." 

My driver threw up his hands and sobbed. 

"Our friend John's horse went lame and we 
left him at the bottom of the hill while we came 
up to reconnoitre. We can't leave him down 
there all alone." 

"He's gone — gone — I swear it. Followed 
[228] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

the French chasseurs on my bicycle, leading 
his mount!" 

"Thank God!" 

"Now then, how far the Germans will come 
is a question. They'll probably go in and 
occupy the town, and there's just one thing for 
us to do — bolt." 

Whizz! Whizz! Whizz — the lead fairly 
splashed around us ! 

Leon and Emile rode back to say that the 
road ahead was clear. 

''JLes Boches" I said, pointing down the 
hill. 

"Come on, you cowards!" yelled my boys 
defiantly, George brandishing the rifle of my 
wounded man. 

"Oh, Madame, ask the Englishmen for their 
revolvers. They've got their rifles — that's five 
of us armed, and Monsieur's revolver makes 
six! It's almost man to man. Ah, please, 
Madame!" they implored. 

In the excitement of the moment I nearly 
lost my head and consented. I was worked to 
such a point that any solution would have 
seemed a relief. The Britishers saw me put 
my hand in my pocket. 

[229] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

"JSTo! No!" they pleaded. "You can't. If 
we're caught you won't be killed — but mur- 
dered, tortured! We're the only ones who 
have a right to fire — " 

"But they've been peppering my cart regard- 
less of my sexl" 

"That's perhaps their way of waging war, 
but not ours. Now then, off you go — 
quickly." 

We disappeared behind a clump of trees and 
tore down the clear road as fast as our horses 
would carry us. George sneaked back on his 
wheel to see if our aggressors were following, 
and came back radiant to announce that after 
coming halfway up the hill, they had turned 
about and were cantering to take possession 
of Jouy — as I had predicted. 

"Where's our nearest barracks?" enquired 
one of the Scotsmen. (I now saw that I had 
to do with the Scots Grays. ) We slowed down 
a little. 

"How on earth do you expect me to know? 
Up imtil I met you I hardly realized there 
were any British troops on the continent!" 

"Where are you bound for?" 

"Melun. There's a big French garrison 
[ 230] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

there in time of peace. You'll always be sure 
of getting orders there — unless we meet some- 
one on the road." 

They thought that was the best idea, and 
fell back, cantering behind my caravan with 
which I had now caught up. 

On we trotted — up hill and down dale for 
several hours, my poor wounded boy still 
writhing on his bed of agony. 

Towards four o'clock we had reached a long 
smooth stretch where we could see right and 
left for several miles over the plains. Pres- 
ently, on a crossroad that ran perpendicular 
to ours, I spied a motor wagon. It was soon 
followed by another and then another, and 
pressing forward we reached the crossing in 
time to see Harrods' Stores, Whitley's, Swan 
& Edgar, and an interminable number of 
English Army supply motors coming straight 
towards us. 

Knowing that it would be impossible to pass 
before the whole long line had gone by, I 
crossed over and now saw that the Scots Grays 
would soon find friends. I called Leon and 
pulling out a card, told him to pedal back and 
dig out a bottle of champagne I had hidden in 
[231] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

our hay cart, and to present it to our soldier 
friends as a bracer and a souvenir. And then 
we pushed ahead. 

Two minutes later, to my utter surprise, a 
heavy motor horn tooted on the road behind 
me and looking back, I saw a private car 
emerge from behind one of the English motors, 
and whirl down in our direction. It was a 
four-seater affair with but two occupants, a 
chauffeur and a woman wearing a streaming 
white veil. 

"Quick!" I shrieked, grabbing the reins and 
pulling our cart full into the middle of the 
road. "They've got to take me and the boy to 
Melun!" 

Seeing his deliverance so near, my old friend 
obeyed at once. 

The motor, stupified by our actions, slowed 
down. 

"Get out of the way!" yelled the chauffeur. 
"Are you crazy! Out or I'll run you down!" 

"Never! Look here. I don't care where 
you're bound for, but you've got to make room 
for me and a dying man in your machine. It's 
Melun — or nothing!" 

"Wounded! Heaven, the Germans ! We're 
[ 232 ] 



MY HOME IN THE EIELD OF HONOUR 

caught! Go on, quick, quick, I say!" shrieked 
the woman. 

The chauffeur made a movement as though 
to skid past us. 

"No, you don't," I said, once again produc- 
ing my trusty Browning. 

The woman hid her face in her hands. 

"Now then, either you can make room for 
us or I'll blow off your tires and you'll have 
to get down and walk like all the rest of us!" 

My grey-headed driver was jubilant. 

"That's right, Madame, you've hit it!" he 
encouraged. 

There just wasn't any choice. The chauffeur 
got down and began piling the gasoline cans 
behind on the back seat to one side. Then, 
each of us grabbing a corner of the mattress, 
we hoisted the sufferer onto the machine, cov- 
ering him with a sheet. Try as we would, 
though, we could not get him to bend his knees, 
and in consequence all during the trip the poor 
chauffeur received constant kicks from the 
agonized soul we were rushing towards surgical 
aid. 

"Now then," I said, turning to my old driver. 
"Thank you for your cart, and bon voyage to 
[233] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUK 

Coulommiers. George, tell my people to meet 
me in Melun." 

And hatless, coatless, with but one golden 
louis in my pocket (I had confided my bag to 
Julie when the wounded man had arrived at 
Jouy), I started on our record-breaking trip 
to Melun. 



[234] 



VII 

It was an exciting trip, that race for life and 
death — for every moment I knew my wounded 
boy was growing weaker, and every convulsive 
kick meant the disappearance of so much life 
blood. During the nmnerous adventures which 
befell us between the time we left Jouy-le- 
Chatel and our encountering the motor, my 
hypodermic needle had received such violent 
treatment that it refused service. So when we 
turned into Mormont at top speed, I was 
obliged to ask my driver to slow down and 
inquire for a doctor. We were directed by a 
couple of gaping women on the borders of the 
little city, who didn't quite understand our 
mission. However, they must have been soon 
enlightened, for as we crossed the public 
square the British Red Cross ambulances were 
pouring in and lining up in battle array. 
Behind them came a steady stream of ammuni- 
tion wagons, both horse and motor trucks, and 
from Mormont to Melun the line was un- 
broken. 

[235] 



MY HOME IN THE EIELD OF HONOUR 

The doctor was absent, but his wife wiUingly 
filled his place and with new hope dawning we 
backed out of the yard and sped southward. 

What was the landscape we passed through 
I really couldn't say. I had a dreamy sensa- 
tion of having run down a refugee's dog, and 
hearing its owner wishing us in warmer climes 
— as well as the feeling that my blood-stained 
apron and the agitated white sheet beside me 
created much curiosity among the drivers and 
occupants of the A. S. C. motors that took up 
all one side of the road. 

One by one the mile posts whizzed past and 
finally we came into Melun. 

"Where's the nearest hospital?" I enquired 
of a group of soldiers loitering outside a 
barracks. 

"Give it vip ! All evacuated !" 

Our driver needed no more — and so we 
pushed on into the town, while I pantomimed 
to those behind that I had a wounded man in 
my arms. 

In front of the city hall stood a noisy 
gathering, and in reply to our questions, a mid- 
dle-aged man jumped on to the step. 

"Go ahead — I'll guide you. All the seven 
[236] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

hospitals in Melun were transferred to Orleans 
this morning. The mixed hospital is all that is 
left." 

After what seemed an interminable time we 
finally pulled up a long hill and after much 
parleying I succeeded in turning over my 
patient to the medical authorities. 

Through the half open door of the little 
stuffy office where I was conducted I could see 
a white-aproned doctor and a nurse properly 
bandaging my boy. When my compagnons de 
route had departed, I walked out into the ward 
and straight up to the bedside. 

"Is there any hope?" 

"Not one chance in a million! Would to 
heaven we had the right to spare them such 
suffering! Morphine is no longer helpful in 
his case!" 

It was a shock to hear this. The lad, who a 
couple of hours before was unknown to me, 
suddenly became very dear. I turned about to 
hide my emotion, but was startled out of it by 
the double line of white beds on which were 
writhing men and boys in the most awful 
agony, yet not a sound broke from their lips. 
In the middle of the room a second doctor, a 
[237] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

slight man with a pointed beard, stood wash- 
ing his hands and then began drawing on a pair 
of long rubber gloves. He crossed over to a 
basin and, after sterilizing his instruments, 
looked around for an aid. 

"Can I do anything for you, doctor?" 

Not in the least surprised by my audacity, 
he asked, "Are you a nurse?" 

"No." 

"Have you ever seen an operation." 

"Yes." 

I lied. 

"Have you a good temperament?" 

"Yes." 

"Then come over here and hold this basin." 

I obeyed, and then Doctor Jean Mas- 
brennier began a series of operations which will 
remain graven in my memory forever. 

As he worked he talked — and informed me 
that the Red Cross Society had been hastily 
evacuated in the morning, doctors and all. 
Only those who were unable to be moved had 
been left behind, and only two civilian doctors 
were left to attend them. But one nurse 
remained to do all the bandaging. That was 
why I had been rung into service. It took but 
[238] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

little time to find a mutual acquaintance in the 
person of Elizabeth Gauthier, and the doctor 
had long been familiar with H.'s work. 

It would be useless to describe the horrors 
that I witnessed, or try to do justice to the 
heroic way those first glorious wounded of this 
lengthy war accepted their fate. I cannot, 
however, resist mentioning the endurance of 
a big black Senegalais, who won the admira- 
tion of both doctors and neighbors by refusing 
morphine or cocaine, and insisting on having 
the seven bullets that were lodged in his neck 
and throat withdrawn thus — never uttering a 
murmur ! 

When it was over, and we finally laid him 
back on his pillow, the tears were rolling down 
his cheeks and he squeezed my hand in his big 
black paw and then gently drew it to his lips. 

How many wounded were there? I did not 
count. All I remember was that I promised 
to come the next day and write letters to wives, 
mothers and sweethearts of at least a dozen 
men and boys. 

It was late when the last basin was emptied 
and Dr. Masbrennier untied his apron. 

As we were washing up, I asked if he would 
[239] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

be good enough to guide me out of the hospital 
and tell me where there was a respectable res- 
taurant to which a woman might go alone. 

"I have neither hat, coat, nor gloves. 
They're coming in the carts." 

"That's so; perhaps you haven't had any- 
thing since lunch and I've been making you 
work on an empty stomach!" 

"Worse than that!" I laughed. 

"What?" 

"Nothing since breakfast at Jouy-le- 
Chatel." 

"Good God, woman!" And taking me by 
the arm, he hurried me down the hall. 

As we passed out of the entrance door, a 
superior officer stopped Dr. Masbrennier and 
though I advanced out of earshot the words, 
"evacuation" and "to-night" were distinctly 
audible. A second later my companion caught 
up with me. 

"So sorry I can't accompany you, but the 
whole hospital goes to Orleans immediately. 
Must make room for the new-comers! I'll 
'phone home. The gouvernante will make you 
comfortable." And he continued to give me 
explicit directions how to reach his house. 
[240] 



MY HOME IN THE EIELD OF HONOUR 

"You'd better come to Orleans where we can 
look after you." 

"Sorry, but I've gone far enough south." 

''Alors au revoir et grand merci" 

''Au revoir/' 

And a second later I found myself outside 
in the chilly darkness. 

For the first time in my life I had the sensa- 
tion of being utterly alone. No one on earth 
knew where I was and if I had not had faith in 
Dr. Masbrennier's promise of a warm dinner, I 
should gladly have indulged in a little fit of de- 
spair. And so I wandered on down the dingy, 
black streets of Melun, where not a lamp post 
nor shop window was lighted, not a human 
being seemed astii)^ Where was my little 
troupe ? How and when would we all meet ? 

Thus ruminating I came to a bridge. A 
sentry flashed a pocket lamp in my face. 

''On ne passe pas!'' 

I showed my armlet and he stepped aside. 

Halfway across I distinguished two human 
forms leaning over the railing, and following 
their example I perceived a half-dozen 
hommes du genie hard at work mining the 
foundation of the centre arch. So these 
[241] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

bridges were to be blown up, too! What was 
I to do? Stay on the other side and wait for 
my caravan or cross over and risk my chances 
alone ? A reflector from below swung upward, 
illuminating the bridge. 

"George!" I gasped. 

One of the two figures straightened 
abruptly ! In a second the boys had recognized 
me. "What are you doing here? Where are 
the others?" 

I poured out a dozen eager questions, not 
giving them time to reply. When almost 
breathless I stopped and they explained that 
the caravan had been halted on the outskirts 
of Melun. No refugees were allowed in after 
nightfall. Fortunately the boys bethought 
themselves of my wounded man's clothes and 
arms, and thanks to these they were allowed 
to pass and deliver them to the gendarmerie. 
Remembering that I had friends at Barbizon 
they had sent the others there by a round-about 
route, and had come on to find me. 

"But how did you get here?" 

"Cesar brought us." 

"Where is he? And Betsy?" 

"Oh, we found a dentist who had an empty 
[242] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

stable. He took them in. Betsy refused to 
leave the cart. She's never had such a picnic 
in her life: been traveling all day in a ten- 
pound box of lump sugar!" 

All worry had vanished, now that I found 
my line of conduct traced for me. The chief 
thing at present was to get something to eat. 
So we pushed ahead up the hill in the ever- 
deepening obscurity. We walked on in silence 
for what seemed an interminable distance. 
Once I fancied I had mistaken directions and 
was about to despair when the tramp of feet 
coming toward us revived hope. A second 
later a brawny arm turned a lantern into my 
face and a huge police dog growled close to my 
heels. 

"Are you the person who is going to Dr. 
Masbrennier's ?" 

"Yes." 

''Tres bien. Are these boys with you?" 

"Yes." 

"Then follow me. We're closing up the 
doctor's house, but I'll look after you." 

Without further ado we trudged on behind 
our guide, who after another hundred yards, 
turned into a gateway and led us up the stone 
[ 243 ] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

steps of a sumptuous dwelling. Opening the 
door, he lit the electric light and stepped into 
the vestiblue. 

"Come in," he said. "I'll be back in a mo- 
ment." And he disappeared. 

There we stood, Leon, George and myself, 
waiting for something to happen, for someone 
to appear. Five — ten — fifteen minutes must 
have elapsed — still not a sound anywhere. I 
was just beginning to wonder if we had not 
been the dupes of some practical joke, when 
from a room opening into the vestibule a light 
shone forth. The curtains parted and our 
friend of the highroad appeared. 

" 'Tisn't much — but such as it is you're wel- 
come. Sit down and make yourselves com- 
fortable." And again he disappeared. 

On a snowy white table cloth three covers 
were laid and a tempting supper composed of 
bread and butter, cheese, a bottle of white wine, 
and a huge basket of most luscious hothouse 
grapes and pears — gladdened our hungry 
gaze. We did not need a second invitation! 
We fell to with a vengeance and at the end 
of a quarter-hour hardly a crumb remained. 

"When you've finished, come upstairs; 
[244] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

Madame will take the first door to the right. 
You boys come up a flight higher," called a 
voice from above. 

We obeyed, and before retiring I waited a 
good half-hour hoping our friend would 
reappear. But no one came — so bolting my 
door, I offered up a prayer of thanks and was 
soon fast asleep. 

Sunday morning, September sixth, the sun 
was high in the heavens when I peeped from 
beneath my lace-bordered sheets and cocked 
my ear at the familiar sound of the cannon. 
It was a long continuous roar, and now that I 
had become accustomed to distancing I esti- 
mated that the battle was on at Mormont. And 
I was not mistaken. A little later official news 
confirmed my guess. 

Finding no bell in my room, I opened the 
door — to see a pitcher of hot water sitting 
before it, and on a chair beside it, a new comb, 
a clean linen duster, and a pocket handkerchief. 
A brief note told me that I would find break- 
fast in the dining-room, and requested that I 
leave word on the table saying at what time 
I would be in for luncheon. Decidedly the 
mystery deepened — for not a sound could be 
[ 245 ] 



MY HOME IN THE EIELD OF HONOUR 

heard save in the garden where I spied George 
and Leon, who informed me that the house 
was empty, and "a gorgeous house, Madame!" 
they ejaculated in admiration. 

Though partially abandoned, Melun was full 
of life, thanks to the presence of numerous 
British troops and that same long line of A. S. 
C.'s now quadrupled on the highroad — two 
lines going, two lines coming. 

As I picked my way between them, and 
crossed the street, my attention was arrested 
by a French peasant who was conversing by 
means of the sign language with the hand- 
some driver of one of those vans, while several 
children were clamoring to be allowed to sit on 
the seat a moment, "just to see how it seemed." 

"Can I be of any assistance?" 

"Rather! Seems good to hear English, 
thank you." 

"Really?" 

"Yes. Might I ask where you come from?" 

"The States." 

"Do you know Cleveland?" 

"Yes." 

"Well, I've got a mother and three brothers 
buried in that cemetery. Colonials, you know. 
[ 246 ] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

I'm English — from Bath — oldest son. Could- 
n't see things their way. Done better perhaps 
if I'd joined the others out there." 

I smiled at this unexpected and impromptu 
confession. The boy saw it and reddened. 

"Is there anything particular you want me 
to say to this man for you?" said I quickly, to 
cover his embarrassment. 

"No, thank you. But there's one thing you 
might be able to tell me." 

"What?" 

"Do you think we'll be 'home' in time to eat 
Christmas dinner?" 

"Rather!" 

"Thank you so much! Good-bye." 

"Good-bye and good luck to you." 

And after snapping his photograph I 
started on down the street in haste, for I could 
see George and Leon, who had gone on ahead, 
now running towards me. 

"Vite, Madame. They need you!" 

"Who?" 

"The English. They can't make people 
understand." 

I pressed forward, and came upon a crowd 
of gapers standing outside a shop. Within 
[247] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

two English officers were arguing in their 
native tongue with an irate butcher, who 
waved one arm wildly in the air, and brandished 
a huge knife in the other, shouting frantically 
all the while, 

^'La voila — la voila!" said George and Leon, 
almost dragging me forward, proud to exhibit 
my accomplishments. ''La voila! Vous etes 
sauves/' 

My greatest desire was to turn about and 
run, but the crowd parted to let me through. 

"Would you mind, Madame?" pleaded the 
lieutenant. "We need your assistance to make 
this man understand that we're drafting meat 
for the army. We'll pay cash, but he might 
just as well give it gracefully, for we have the 
right to force his ice box if he refuses." 

I explained gently, and when things were 
calm was about to slip away. The officer 
touched me on the shoulder. 

"I'm sorry, Madame, but I'm afraid we'll 
have to draft you, too. Our time is limited and 
if a scene like this happens at every shop we'll 
be punished for tardiness! Here's my order 
to draft an interpreter," and he put his hand 
into his pocket. 

[248] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

I was somewhat abashed. 

"Might I ask when you will release me?" 

"Just as soon as we've the supply we need." 

"Will you give me ten minutes to arrange 
my affairs here?" 

"Certainly. But remember you're on 
parole !" 

Outside I explained the situation to George 
and Leon, and scribbling a note to friends in 
Barbizon, told the boys to drive over and re- 
assure the others — make them comfortable at 
the Clef d'OVj, and tell them to expect me 
that evening. 

"Whatever happens, wait there until I come. 
There's no danger of the Germans reaching 
Barbizon, I fancy!" 

And that is how from nine in the morning 
until late in the afternoon I sat perched on 
the front of a British Army Supply truck, 
much to the amusement of the other Tommy 
Atkins we encountered in Melun and the 
neighboring villages. 

My officer friends very courteously drove me 

to the hospital where I learned that my poor 

wounded chasseur Ballandreau had passed 

away in the night, and towards five o'clock, 

[249] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

when their task was completed, they offered 
me tea and proposed to drive me to Barbizon. 
As we jolted down the hill towards the railway 
crossing our attention was attracted by a huge 
gathering of citizens and soldiers, and above 
the roar of our motor, we could hear the rolling 
of a drum. Silence reigned instantly and an 
officer in uniform in the middle of the group 
read out a short message from a paper he held 
in his hand. What he said we could not hear, 
but the mad shout of joy that went up when 
he had finished made us eager to learn the news. 
Like lightning "Paris saved — the Germans 
retreating" ran from mouth to mouth, and the 
delirious excitement that seized that crowd was 
absolutely indescribable. Young and old, 
English and French, peasant and bourgeois, 
fell on each other's necks and exchanged a 
joyous embrace. The awful tension of the 
last month was broken and the word victory 
was uttered by thousands of throats, suddenly 
grown husky with emotion. 

My arrival and the news I bore created a 
sensation among my servants and the remain- 
ing inhabitants of Millet's famous village. 
Barbizon was dead — literally deserted, for not 
[ 250 ] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

a single member of that delightful summer 
colony remained, several hotels were closed, 
and the others as empty as in the heart of 
winter. The proprietress of the Clef d'Or 
made me a very tempting offer for a sejour^ 
but I judged, and rightly, that since the 
German retreat had begun, we would best fol- 
low on close behind the victorious army, for if 
we waited until order was restored, patrols 
would be organized and we who had no papers 
to identify us would not be allowed to pass. 

Before retiring I announced my intention of 
starting homeward, and the joy that illu- 
minated those anxious faces somewhat calmed 
my own misgivings, for now that our adven- 
ture was safely over, I couldn't help worrying 
about the absent. 

When I touched my bed, I bethought me 
of my lodging the night before, and realized 
that I knew neither the name nor address of 
the generous person in whose sumptuous 
domicile I had been so cordially received and 
graciously cared for. How and whom was I 
to thank? 

Leon, Emile and a sturdy butcher boy from 
Charly who had joined the others on the road, 
[251] 



MY HOME IN THE EIELD OF HONOUR 

had now determined to enlist — so I could but 
encourage their patriotic sentiments, and went 
with them to the recruiting office to furnish 
proof of their identity. 

Evidently many other youths under military 
age had been inspired with the same idea, for 
there was a long line outside the door, and as 
we stood and waited, we examined with interest 
the mounts of the English cavalry regiment 
lined up in the street awaiting their riders. 
George and Leon were eagerly fingering a 
long coil of rope thrown on the pommel of one 
saddle, when a deep voice from behind them 
ejaculated, 

"Guess you ain't ever seen the likes of that 
before. That's a lasso." 

I explained, and then looking round, beheld 
a long, lanky individual, his hands on his hips, 
literally taking us all in. 

"Do you think you can tell 'em what that is, 
sister?" 

"I fancy so." 

"Then you must be from home!" 

"If you mean the States — yes." 

"To h— with the States! The State- 
Texas!" 

[252] 



- V 



I- 1 ^ 



.h,',y.iU-'j!r\t 






i fl 



Ss 



;x^' 



A BUGLE SOUNDED AND I COULD HEAR THE TRAMP 
OF soldiers' feet [Page 265] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

I didn't find it necessary to translate that. 

"Say, you haven't by any chance got a razor 
about you?" he inquired. I rephed that I 
was not in the habit of carrying such articles 
on my person. 

"No offense meant — but since you speak this 
d — language, perhaps you could persuade one 
of them kids to go and buy me one." 

I said I thought I might, and my com- 
patriot producing an American double eagle, 
enjoined Leon to be quick and he'd make it 
worth his while. 

"You see," he explained, "a razor is all I 
need to complete my outfit. Got a Winchester, 
two revolvers, a Bowie knife, a lance and a 
lasso. Razor's flat and easy to carry. Might 
be useful, too. Nothing like being properly 
armed. If I've got to sell my hide you bet I'll 
sell it dear!" 

Leon returned and I was about to ask my 
friend to give us a little exhibition of his skill 
with the rope, when the call to arms obliged 
him to leave. So enjoining me to give his re- 
gards to Broadway, he departed much pleased 
with the world in general and himself in 
particular. 

[253] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

From various sources, though none of them 
official, I learned that the road as far as 
Coulommiers was clear. That was all we 
wanted to know, so after seeing the boys off 
for Orleans, a very much diminished caravan 
started on its homeward journey. The horses, 
after two days' rest, were quite giddy, and the 
carts being light, they carried us on the new 
road north as far as Pezarches with but few 
halts. The country we passed through, though 
abandoned by its inhabitants, showed no traces 
of invasion. The Germans had not been able 
to push so far west. I counted on making 
Coulommiers to sleep, but night closed in 
early and with it came a chilly drizzle, which 
sent us in search of lodgings. Not a soul 
was to be seen anywhere, and as all the 
houses were shut, I deemed it unwise to force 
a door. So we pushed ahead into the border 
of the forest, hoping that the rain would soon 
cease. 

Presently someone discovered an abandoned 
hermitage, through whose low doorway we 
crept, and spreading out our blankets on the 
floor, prepared to make a night of it — glad of 
shelter from the dampness. 
[254] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

"Hark!" hissed George, just as we were 
dropping off to sleep. 

We all sat up. 

"There! That's the third bullet that's 
landed on this roof!" 

Ra-ta-pan — Ratapan! There was no mis- 
taking the sound — even through the wind and 
rain that raged outside. 

George crawled on his knees toward the 
opening, and a second later jumped back, 
clapping his hand to his head with a low shriek. 

"He's shot!" cried Julie. 

I leaped forward, grabbed the lantern, and 
holding it to the spot, opened the boy's clenched 
fingers. As they parted, a heavy horse chest- 
nut burr fell to the floor with a loud thump ! 

We were too nervous to appreciate the 
humour of the situation, and had some little 
difficulty composing ourselves to rest. 

As we approached Coulommiers the next 
morning the horrors of war became more and 
more evident. On both sides of the roadway 
the fields were strewn with hay and straw. 
Every ten paces the earth was burned or 
charred, and in some places the smoke still rose 
from dying camp fires. Bones, bottles and 
[255] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

tin preserve cans in extraordinary quantities 
were strewn in every direction, and a half- 
mile before we reached the town itself, a dead 
horse lay abandoned in a ditch. 

At this point we were hailed by a party of 
bedraggled refugees who warned us that it 
would be useless to try to enter Coulommiers. 

"We're from Neuilly-St. Front, on our way 
home, but there doesn't seem much chance of 
our getting any further. The place is in the 
hands of the military authorities — with orders 
to let no one pass." 

We halted, and George went on ahead and 
interviewed a sentry, returning with a nega- 
tive reply, and the information that Coulom- 
miers was in a pretty mess after the looting. 

"It can't be worse than La Ferte Gauche." 
And above the almost deafening roar of the 
cannon an elderly man told us how his caravan 
had been caught by the Germans, stripped of 
everything they possessed, separated from 
their women folk, and with armed sentries back 
of them had been forced to work at the building 
of a temporary bridge to replace the one the 
French had blown up. 

"I got off easy — with only a few welts from 
[256] 



MY HOME IN THE EIELD OF HONOUR 

a raw-hide," he murmured, "but my brother 
(and he pointed to a very stout mascuhne 
figure rolled in a blanket and sitting motion- 
less on the steps of an abandoned road house) 
— "my brother's nearly done for! You see he's 
near-sighted and not used to manual labor, and 
every time he missed his nail with the hammer, 
the German coward would jab him in the ribs 
with the point of his bayonet. Seventy-two 
wounds !" 

"And your women?" 

"God knows what they did to them! My 
wife hasn't stopped sobbing since we met. 
She's dazed — I can't make her talk." 

As he rambled on with his haphazard story, 
glad of fellow sympathy, I spied a line of 
British Army Supply carts advancing up the 
road. The leader came to a halt and getting 
down, the driver entered the first of the aban- 
doned dwellings before which we were stand- 
ing. Presently he reappeared. 

"Just my luck! I say" — (and this addressed 
to our group with a sort of blank, hopeless 
expression) "I don't suppose any of you 
Frenchies know where I could get a cup of 
teal" 

[257] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

I laughed outright, much to his astonish- 
ment. 

"Not anywhere around here, unless you're 
willing to wait until I can build fire enough to 
make you one!" 

The man blushed crimson. 

"Ah— I couldn't think—" 

"No trouble. Get one of your men to make 
a blaze, and, boasting aside, I'll brew you a 
cup such as you haven't had since you left 
England." 

No sooner said than done, and quarter of an 
hour later, a half-dozen Tommy Atkins were 
sipping hot Kardomah with sugar and con- 
densed milk, from tin mugs. 

"You're certainly right — the French don't 
know how to do it, at least in these parts. I 
had a teapotful yesterday morning that was as 
near a mixture of stewed herbs and Hunyadi 
water I ever hope to taste. And now, isn't 
there something we can do for you?" 

"Tell me where you're bound for?" 

The man brought out a note-book and 
pointed to a name. 

"La Ferte-sous-Jouarre?" 

"Yes, that's it. I wouldn't dare tackle it." 
[ 258 ] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

"Is the road clear? Can we go there? It's 
only fifteen kilometres from my home." 

"I don't know if they'll let you by — but if 
you're clever and follow on close behind us 
with your Red Cross armlet, there's just a 
chance — that's all." 

I didn't need a second bidding and after 
warning my people not to talk if we met sen- 
tries but to have faith in me, we pushed ahead. 
Our army friends with better horses soon left 
us in the rear, but undaunted we proceeded, 
finally reaching the heights that overlooked La 
Ferte — and led into the village, Jouarre, 
perched on the side of the hill running towards 
the Marne. 

Oh, the pitiful sights that met our gaze as we 
wended our way along those glorious roads, 
now full of ruts and knee-deep in mud! As 
far as eye could see the entire country had 
served as a huge camp for the invader, and 
when forced to flee he had sacked and destroyed 
everything within his reach. The wonderful 
fertile fields had been soiled, polluted, and 
among other damning evidences of their fury, 
the smoking ruins of every farm house stood 
like spectres in the brilliant sunshine. 
[259] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUE 

At the entrance to La Ferte our road was 
barred by two sentinels, elderly peasants, by 
their looks. I played mum and tapped my 
Red Cross armlet. 

''Non, on ne passe pas!" 

I beckoned them and fumbled among my 
papers for my carte dfidentite. They ap- 
proached the cart, but as they did so, my 
faithful Betsy let forth an angry growl. 

"Down !" I commanded in English. "Down, 
I say! They're not going to hurt me!" 

Those phrases were my undoing! 

"Oh, ho !" said my interlocutors. "And after 
that you think you're going to get past us? 
We've had enough Bodies in this place. You 
can come in — ^but between us !" And jumping 
up on either side of me, one of them took the 
reins and started forward. This being taken 
for a spy was an altogether new and very 
disagreeable sensation. 

"But, gentlemen," I protested calmly, "I'm 
known in this place. If there's an inhabitant 
left I'll be identified in a second. How green 
you'll feel if you drag me before an officer and 
find you're mistaken!" 

They were unrelenting. 
[260] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

I invoked my identity card. 

No, they had heard me speak in a foreign 
tongue and all foreign tongues to them were 
German ! 

And so we entered La Ferte. 

Doors and windows no longer existed — the 
former had been dashed to splinters by the 
butt ends of guns, while the latter were shat- 
tered to powder and from their apertures 
swung bed clothing, personal adornment and 
household belongings in shreds and tatters — 
all wilfully soiled by mud and filth. 

It was useless to try to drive our cart up 
the main street, so calling a passing comrade, 
my detainers bid him hold my horse until they 
returned after having fait leur affaire^ as they 
expressed it. 

The plate glass windows of every store lay 
in thousands of pieces below their sashes, and 
the entire stock of merchandise whether fur- 
niture or drapery, groceries or dairy products, 
had been hurled through them into the middle 
of the thoroughfare. Above these were piled 
pell-mell bedding and chairs, wardrobes and 
wash basins, all splintered and broken — the 
whole making the most pitiable conglomeration 
[261] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

I ever hope to witness. One plucky dealer 
was already boarding up the great yawning 
cavities that were once show windows, and here 
and there a frightened female face peeped out 
from behind the ruins of her commerce. 

"Madame Huard!" cried a familiar voice 
behind me. ''Mon Dieu — ^j^ou !" 

I turned and recognized my pastry baker's 
wife. 

''Oui, moi; arretee/^ 

"Arrested!" 

"Yes, unless you will be good enough to 
inform these gentlemen who I am?" 

''Est-il possible! Est-il possible! Why, of 
course, I know you — how dare they!" 

"You see," I said, turning to the auooil- 
aires. 

But they were inflexible, bidding my friend 
follow on if she could swear to mj^ identity. 
She obeyed, but our group had attracted the 
attention of a couple of small boys who darted 
out of an alley way like rats from a cellar, 
calling, ''Uespionne — Vespionne !'' 

Thank fortune, at that instant we came upon 
an officer, whom I accosted at a distance, ex- 
plained my case and produced my card and 
[262] 



MY HOME IN THE EIELD OF HONOUR 

my pastry baker. He understood in a moment, 
and hastily discharged my custodians. 

"I cannot scold them. They're over zealous, 
but we've been so horribly betrayed all along. 
You understand, I'm sure. Please accept my 
apologies, Madame!" 

I bowed and he departed. Then I turned to 
my friend. 

"You've heard the news, I suppose, 
Madame!" 

"No— what?" 

She suddenly grew white. 

"Quick — out with it, woman!" 

She hesitated. 

"Is H.— ?" 

"Non, not that, Madame, but a quarter of 
an hour ago it was noised about that the enemy 
are still retreating, and that we were pounding 
into their headquarters — le chateau de Vil- 
Iters/' 

I felt myself whitening. The woman saw it, 
and catching me by the arm, "Come, come," 
she said. "You're tired; perhaps it isn't true, 
so many false alarms have been launched. 
Come and have a cup of coffee — you'll excuse 
our back room — it's all we have left." 
[263] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

I gladly followed her, picking my way 
through what had once been one of the most 
enticing of provincial pastry shops, the good 
soul apologizing all the time, as if she had been 
responsible for the damage. As she prattled 
on, though my own brain was swimming I 
now and then grasped such phrases as three 
days of looting, two days' bombardment. As 
she passed me a cup of coffee, she explained 
that the invaders had not been satisfied with 
violently appropriating all personal articles 
which they had found to their liking, but after 
having drunk all the wine in the cellars, they 
had wilfully cut open the bags of flour and 
thrown it pell-mell in every direction. 

"And, Madame, they got into my reserve of 
eggs — five thousand of them — " she wept — 
"five thousand! All my winter's store. I 
wouldn't have minded if they had eaten them 
— but to see them purposely crushed and 
wasted. Two of those wretches spent half a 
day bringing them up from the cellar in their 
helmets, and then dragging me out, would hurl 
them at the walls and windows, savagely re- 
joicing in my distress!" 

I couldn't remain indoors — I had but one 
[264] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

thought — get to ViUiers or see someone who 
knew for certain what had happened there. 

Again I crossed the shop, paddhng through 
that sticky yellow slime in which bits of fur- 
niture and clothing floated like croutons in a 
gigantic nauseating omelet. 

Outside, towards the end of the street that 
opened on to the quai, great animation reigned. 
A bugle sounded and I could hear the tramp 
of soldiers' feet. 

"Look!" cried my friend. "Look, all that is 
left of the Institut St. Joseph, the pride of La 
Ferte." 

Across the river between the broken spans of 
the bridge, my eye fell upon the gutted remains 
of what had once been a most exquisite bit of 
eighteenth century architecture. The man- 
sion which had sheltered Louis XVI and 
Marie Antoinette on their eventful return from 
Varennes, was now a smoking pile of ashes! 

"And to think we had to do it! Oh, curse 
their hides!" muttered an elderly man close to 
my elbow. 

"We?" 

"Yes." 

[265] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

"Why, when they had to get out of here 
they crossed the Marne, destroyed the bridge 
and entrenched themselves in the houses along 
the bank. The English caught them like rats 
in a cage, but at what a price! One fellow 
that's rowed across says he can hear them 
moaning, but you bet they can rot there before 
we'll go to 'em. Begging your pardon for 
the language!" 

A dozen men of the genie were busy con- 
structing a temporary arch between two spans, 
and just as soon as a plank was laid a regiment 
from Cherbourg (almost all reservists) filed 
over one by one. The population gave them 
an ovation, and it was a curious sight to see 
these care-worn, haggard-faced people simply 
going mad with joy, while around them was 
heaped desolation. 

"I hope you haven't come for your tea 
service, Madame?" 

I turned and recognized my china dealer, 
who smiled cynically as he motioned towards 
his shop. 

"It doesn't pay to be a glass merchant these 
days. It only took two shells to send twenty 
years' earnings into splinters! There's not a 
[266] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

whole goblet or plate in the entire establish- 
ment ! But I wouldn't have cared if they hadn't 
maltreated the women. I — " 

"Come and see!" cried another. "Durant's 
house has tumbled down and his wife and 
family are smothering in the cellar. Quick!" 

There was a general rush in that direction, 
but I pushed on towards the bridge. It was 
evident my carts could not cross, but there was 
just a hope that they would let George and me 
through with our bicycles. 

I accosted the sentry who stood mounting 
guard beside a motor which was thrown up 
on the side of the road, twisted and distorted 
like a tin toy one has walked on. 

No, the bridge was for the army only. 

I insisted. 

An officer came to my rescue, but could 
only confirm the sentry's orders. 

"You're not safe even here. This is the firing 
line. We don't know yet for certain whether 
we are going to hold the ground we gained. 
Villiers? Still in the Germans' hands." 

I sighed and was about to turn away. "Then 
Where's the nearest bridge across?" 

"Meaux." 

[267] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

"But that's thirty kilometres west! I'm 
only fifteen from home here!" 

"I wish I could help you, but there's no use 
trying to leave here unless you go that way." 

Then Meaux it must be, and though our trip 
was considerably lengthened, anything was 
better than inaction. 



[268] 



VIII 

It was with much reluctance that we turned 
our backs on La Ferte the following morning 
and headed our horses westward. 

Naturally the right of way was reserved for 
the army, and the roads bordering the Marne 
were now lined with soldiers, guns, ambulances 
and supply vans rushing to the front. After 
being side-tracked and halted no less than two 
score times, we finally reached Trilport, where 
the invaders had done but little material 
damage. The terrified civil population was 
even exultant, for two nights previously an 
automobile containing four German officers 
sped through the town, in the direction of 
Paris, and ignorant of the fact that the English 
had destroyed the bridge, had been precipitated 
into the river. The affair seemed to be con- 
sidered as a huge joke, and the chief amuse- 
ment now consisted in hanging over the broken 
side and contemplating the gruesome spectacle 
of a half-submerged motor, and four human 
[269] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

bodies lying inanimate on some rocks, rapidly- 
swelling, thanks to heat and the current. 

"When we're sure they're good and dead, 
we'll bury 'em," explained a man whom I 
questioned. 

As I write this phrase, now that more than 
a year has elapsed, it seems cruel and heart- 
less, but on the spur of the moment, and after 
all that each one had endured, it was but 
justice. 

Though barges were being rapidly brought 
into position so as to form a temporary bridge, 
I felt it would be a good two days before we 
could get across, and so following the course 
of the river, we wended our way in and out, 
round about, this time through peaceful coun- 
try, until we reached Meaux. 

My heart leaped with joy when on approach- 
ing I saw the cathedral standing unharmed, 
like a guardian above the peaceful little city. 

The Germans had made but a brief stay here, 
merely an entree and sortie, and had been re- 
ceived by Bishop Marbeau, in such a fashion as 
is likely to be recorded in history and place 
his name beside that of his famous predecessor, 
Bossuet. 

[270] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

One or two stray shells had fallen into the 
place, but the harm done was insignificant. 
The most picturesque and melancholy sight 
was along the river front, where to head off 
the enemy's approach the French had been 
obliged to blow up those ancient bridges — 
landmarks of the fifteenth and sixteenth cen- 
turies, for, like the Ponte Vecchio at Florence, 
they were lined with houses and mills, whose 
pointed roofs and apparent beams had 
weathered nearly five hundred years ! Strange 
as it may seem, it was they that resisted the 
most, and, though the d^oiamite had severed 
their connection with land and shattered their 
pale-blue window panes, not a house had col- 
lapsed, and as they stood in the sun's dying 
blaze, they seemed to say, "Touch me, if you 
dare!" 

Washboats, rowboats, barges and every 
available means of navigation had been sunk 
or put out of working order and though the 
enemy was hardly ten miles distant, men and 
women were busily engaged in setting them 
afloat. 

Once again all we could do was to stand 
and gaze at the opposite bank and after assur- 
[271] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

ing ourselves that there was no possible way 
of crossing, we hastily departed for Lagny. 

That night we slept in a shed hospitably 
offered by a lone peasant woman, and the next 
morning triumphantly crossed the river and set 
our faces homeward. 

Branching northward into the open country 
we chose all the by-roads and short cuts where 
our carts would pass, in order to avoid the 
long streams of ambulances and ammunition 
vans, as well as in the hope of finding better 
thoroughfares. A drizzling rain had set in the 
night before, making the roads, which up until 
now had been covered with a thick layer of 
dust, slippery and uncomfortable. Highways 
which heretofore had been seldom trodden, 
were full of ruts and bumps, and from Langy 
to Villiers there was hardly a corner but what 
showed signs of the invaders' passage. Over 
these green and fertile fields whose crops had 
proudly waved their heads about the lovely 
Marne, were strewn straw and empty bottles 
in unimaginable quantities. Thousands of 
blackened or charred spots dotting the coun- 
tryside, told of campfires and hasty bivouacs, 
and as we silently plodded on towards Charny, 
[272] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

the growing evidences of recent battle met our 
saddened gaze. 

Here a shell had burst on the road, in the 
midst of a bicycle squadron, scattering men 
and machines to the four winds of Heaven. 
A little mound, a rough-hewn cross, marked the 
spot where some sixty soldiers laj^ in their last 
peaceful sleep, while the inelee of tangled wire 
and iron which had once been machines, as well 
as blood-stained garments, bits of shell, and 
even human flesh, made a gruesome and in- 
describable picture. 

Souvenirs? The idea never entered my 
head. And my kodak, which I had been so 
prompt to use to commemorate various events, 
seemed a vulgar, inquisitive instrument, and 
was left unheeded in the bottom of the cart. 
Each step brought us face to face with the 
horrors of warfare. Towards Villeroy a num- 
ber of battered Parisian taxicabs gave us the 
first hint of General Galheni's clever manoeuvre 
which helped save the capital — and then the 
wind brought towards us a nauseating odor, 
which paralyzed our appetites, and sent us 
doggedly onwards: the stench of the battle- 
field. 

[273] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

The girls in the cart drew closer together, 
shivering, though the air was warm and muggy. 
Even old Cesar seemed to feel the awe of that 
Valley of Shadow, and no one murmured as 
we passed the first bloated carcasses of dead 
horses and came upon that far more horrid 
sight — human bodies — swelled to twice their 
natural size, lying as death had met them — 
some in piles, others farther apart — all un- 
recognizable, but once proud mothers' petted 
darhngs. I think they were our enemies. I 
did not stop to investigate; the flies bothered 
us so terribly, and long low mounds with red 
he])is piled upon them told of the graves of 
France's defenders. Far ahead I could dis- 
cover groups of men with shovels, hastily bury- 
ing those who remained. To the right a lazy 
column of dense smoke rose reluctantly in the 
heavy air. I fancied it came from a funeral 
pyre ; we certainly smelled tar and petrol. The 
ground beneath rocked with the thundering of 
the distant cannon, and as one peal burst 
louder a flock of jet black crows mounted 
heavenward, mournfully cawing in the semi- 
twilight. 

So we continued, a silent, foot-sore, rain- 
[274] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

soaked community. With the growing remote- 
ness of imminent danger came the reaction of 
all we had passed through, and deep down in 
our hearts we welcomed the idea of entering 
a village. 

A village! Alas! As we reached the road 
leading to Barcy, there was a rift in the clouds, 
and a long golden ray shot through an enor- 
mous breach in the church tower, flickered a 
moment upon a group of roofless houses, and 
was gone. Night closed in. 

Our spirits sank. Yvonne began to moan 
with agony, her sciatica had returned with the 
dampness, and Nini for some unknown reason, 
began sobbing as though her heart would break. 
I could see the moment not far distant when 
our whole party, seized with fear, would become 
panic-stricken, and that idea, together with the 
one of camping in the sodden fields surrounded 
by grim death, was anything but reassuring. 

"Come on," I urged. "Surely Barcy is not 
entirely deserted." 

What mud! What a road — sometimes en- 
tirely gutted, sometimes so obstructed with 
gasoline cans, hubs of wheels and scraps of 
iron, that I was obliged to lead Cesar by the 
[275] 



MY HOME IX THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

bridle, while the others would walk ahead and 
clear a passage. Their progress was snail-like, 
for there was little oil left in our lantern and 
they hesitated before casting the refuse into 
the ditch for fear of profaning some unknown 
hero's grave. 

And so, stumbling and halting, we came into 
Barcy. As we passed in front of the battered 
church we could see the huge bronze bell lying 
amid a pile of beams, at the foot of the belfry. 
The cadran of the clock tower was midway 
between the ruins of the edifice itself and those 
of what had once been the town hall. Not a 
living soul was to be seen anywhere. Stay — 
yes — there in front of us was a masculine 
figure. 

I called "Monsieur!" 

He halted an instant. Then shook his head 
and skulked away. 

Through an oiled paper that had replaced 
the panes of a shattered window in a house 
which no longer had a second story I caught 
sight of a flickering light. I boldly knocked on 
the door. 

''Qui est la?" asked a high-pitched, trem- 
bling female voice. 

[276] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

"I, Madame H. of Villiers." 

"I don't know you — go your way!" 

"But we are refugees." 

"I have nothing left. Allez-vous-enr 

That was categorical, to say the least. So 
on we went, past the charred ruins of one-time 
happy homes. 

As we rounded a corner our lantern cast a 
dim glow on to the drawn shutters of a half- 
collapsed structure. 

"Stop a moment," said Julie; "there's some- 
thing written on those blinds." 

I approached, and holding the light as close 
as possible I read the following sign, chalked 
in huge white letters: 

''Attention, No Loitering. Looters mil be 
shot on the spot!'' 

That was the last straw, and though it was 
obvious that the warning was intended for the 
troops now miles away, it sent us ahead with 
uncanny celerity. 

Our advance was short-lived, however, for it 
soon became evident that our horses were 
fagged out. Yet where to go became an agoniz- 
ing question, for though we were still within 
the limits of the village, not a roof was to be 
[277] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

seen. There seemed to be but one thing to do, 
and so, halting, I fumbled in the bottom of the 
cart and brought forth a handful of dry straw, 
and my precious bottle of brandy. Thanks to 
these, a match and a sheltering wall, a flame 
managed to blaze up, and from somewhere in 
the vicinity Julie procured a bundle of brush 
and an old broom. 

With the heat our spirits rose. The girls 
dried themselves as best they could before the 
welcome fire, and though still awed by our sur- 
roundings, we nibbled a crust of dry bread and 
some stale cheese. 

Then silently Nini and Yvonne crept back 
into the cart, covered themselves with hay and 
a blanket, opened an umbrella above their 
heads, and soon were fast asleep. The others 
begged me to share their bed beneath the cart, 
but tormented by the thought of what had 
become of H., racked by the anxiety of what 
the future held in store, I could not resign 
myself to rest, and the first grey streaks of 
that cool September dawn found me seated on 
a stone, staring at the glowing embers of our 
watch-fire. 

Again the wind shifted in our direction, 
[ 278 ] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

bringing with it that same loathsome smell. I 
shivered and pulled myself together, and after 
carefully scrutinizing my road-map, decided 
that there was just a chance of reaching Villiers 
before night, but only if we started at once. 
This living in suspense was beginning to tell 
on my nerves and anything, even the assurance 
of dreaded misfortune, would have seemed a 
relief. After the state in which we had found 
Barcy there was little doubt that our part 
of the country had been treated the same way. 
Perhaps it was still in the Germans' hands; 
we had no way of knowing to the contrary. 

I roused the servants and told them of my 
intention, and in a few moments a pot of coffee 
was boiling on the tripod. In spite of the early 
hour I did not hesitate to add a little brandy 
in each cup, for after twenty-four hours of 
continual rain a stimulant was not only neces- 
sary but welcome. I tried to coax the dogs to 
take some, they seemed so wet and miserable, 
but they spurned my offer, and stood looking 
at me with most pitiful and mournful eyes. 

Presently Tiger disappeared behind the wall, 
and a second later we heard a low growl. With 
childlike temerity Nini jumped up to see what 
[279] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

was the cause of his alarm, and then ahuost 
instantly I heard her gasp, ''Un mortT 

That brought us to our feet and in a bound 
I was on the spot just in time to see her fear- 
lessly approaching the prostrate form of a 
German soldier, the upper extremity of whose 
body was hidden beneath the top of a tin wash 
boiler. The child raised the lid, beheld, as we 
did, a headless human trunk, and fell into a 
swoon. 

We were well on our road before she came to 
her senses, and there were moments when I 
almost wished she might remain dormant until 
we had passed beyond the gruesome plain that 
stretches between Barc}^ and Vareddes — now a 
historic battlefield. 

What a weird and wonderful sight it pre- 
sented that gloomy September morning. Be- 
hind us Barcy, whose every edifice was decapi- 
tated or so degraded as to look like a gigantic 
sieve. Around us and on all sides fields fairly 
ploughed up by shot and shell, and every fifty 
yards it seemed to me rose a freshly covered 
mound, extending as far as eye could see. On 
these new-made graves were piled hundreds 
of red soldier caps, and here and there a hastily 
[280] 




A HUGE BLACK CROSS STOOD FORTH IN THE SEMI- 
DARKNESS [Page 291] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

hewn wooden cross bearing such inscriptions 
as these, scrawled in lead pencil on a smooth 
space whittled by a jack knife: 

Auoj Braves du 248 

When an officer was found and identified, 
he was buried alone and his name w^as care- 
fully written on the cross, but more often we 
saw graves marked thus: 

let reposent deux officiers et quarante 
hommes du 28 . . . ieme. 

Sometimes the tomb was in the ditch (to 
save digging) and once we saw the Parisian 
pompiers burying some German corpses in the 
very trench they had dug and died in. 

Overhead tangled electric wires swung 
dangerously near the road, the poles shattered 
or knocked agog, while in the distance the 
stumps of a once-majestic row of poplars made 
the horizon look like a grinning toothless face. 

Time and again we were obliged to leave 
the road to avoid accident by passing over 
unexploded shells, and I shall always recall a 
gigantic oak tree which though still standing 
was cleft in twain by a 77-shell embedded 
[281] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

intact in the yawning trunk; the impact, not 
the explosion, had caused the rift. 

The farther we advanced the more evident 
became the signs of recent conflict. Hay stacks 
seemed to have been a favorite target as well 
as refuge. One we saw was almost completely 
tunneled through, and the blood bespattered 
sides of the opening told that the occupant had 
been caught as in a trap. Around these stacks 
were scattered the remains of old boots and 
shoes, scarlet blood-soaked rags, dry beans, bits 
of soap, playing cards and songs. Oh, light- 
hearted sons of France, it can be truly said that 
death held no terrors for you, since from Barcy 
to Soissons the ground you loved and so val- 
iantly defended was strewn white with hun- 
dreds of thousands of tender ditties and 
chansons de route. 

From Vareddes we passed on to Congis, 
the only living soul we met being a little old 
white-haired parish priest, who had set him- 
self the task of blessing each new-made grave. 

"If this rain continues some of them will be 
so effaced in a fortnight that we shall never 
find them. See — this cross is but two bits of 
straw, bound together by a shoestring!" 
[282] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

And he held up the fragile ornament for 
my inspection. 

"These are more durable," and he showed 
another relic made of a bayonet sheath, crossed 
on the blade itself 1 

"And you — Monsieur le Cure — how is it 
you are here?" 

"Alas — ^would to God they had taken me 
in the place of our boys! Seven of them, 
Madame, carried off as hostages. I was too 
old to be of use!" 

"And the women?" 

The poor little man hung his head. 

" 'Twere better they had died!" 

I understood and shuddered. 

"God speed you, my daughter, and never 
cease to thank Him for preserving you!" 

Again we went our way. 

Lizy-sur-Ourq, which we reached in the late 
forenoon, presented a more animated, though 
hardly more pleasing spectacle. On the tracks 
in front of the station dozens of flat cars and 
freight trains had been purposely run together. 
Some had telescoped, others mounted high in 
piles, one upon the other, their locomotives as 
well as their contents being smashed and dam- 
[283] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

aged — the whole scene presenting the aspect 
of a gigantic railway wreck. 

On the steps of the station, seated gun in 
hand, three soldiers sat playing a game of 
cards. Across the street a sentry mounted 
guard in front of a large door over which 
floated a Red Cross flag. 

"What's in there?" I asked. 

"Prisoners and wounded." 

"Can I be of any assistance?" 

"Hardly — only flesh wounds." 

I peeked into the courtyard. 

In one corner .lounging upon the ground 
were a dozen untidy, unshaven men, whom I 
recognized by their uniforms to be Germans. 
One man cast an insolent glance toward me 
and turned his back. Two others smiled and 
pointed toward the bread they held in their 
hands. On some straw in a couple of drays 
lay five or six individuals, their arms in slings, 
their heads bandaged. 

"Nothing serious," explained a sergeant. 
"We're waiting for our men to clear up the 
tracks and the genie to throw a bridge across 
the canal. Then we'll evacuate them." 

He was neither sad nor triumphant, 
[ 284 ] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

"Were you in the battle?" 

"Rather!" 

"How did your regiment come off?" 

"We're all that are left — forty-four of us," 
and he pointed toward the station where work 
was rapidly progressing. 

From them I procured some singe or army 
beef, and we halted an hour to rest the horses 
and eat our luncheon. We were beginning to 
reach familiar territory and the idea of getting 
home put new life into our tired limbs, and 
made each moment of delay seem uselessly long. 

From Lizy ours was a straight road and we 
made rapid progress. The depressing signs 
of battle became fewer and fewer. It was 
evident that the rush had been northwest, for 
while we encountered numerous proofs of the 
armies' passage, graves and shells, trenches 
and corpses gradually began to disappear. At 
Cocherel, however, the enemy had burned a 
grocery shop when they had failed to find what 
they wanted. The few men who remained had 
suffered much from ill treatment and passing 
by the open gate of a splendid estate I cast a 
glance up the long avenue and saw a sight 
which gave me a pang at the heart. 
[ 285 ] 



MY HOME IN THE EIELD OF HONOUR 

On the green in front of the chateau lay a 
battered bilhard table and a grand piano, both 
turned on end, and much the worse for having 
served as a defense against a rain of shot. 
Around them were strewn broken furniture, 
pictures, linen and bottles in such a sorry mess 
that I dared not even think what Villiers might 
now look like. 

Curiosity was quenched. We cast a second 
glance, and turned our faces eastward. 

The afternoon was well advanced when we 
reached Montreuil-aux-Lions, our home coun- 
try. We found that here less damage had 
been done from heavy artillery, but all the 
edifices had suffered from close-range rifle fire. 
An English sentry was pacing up and down 
in front of the town hall. Over the entrance 
was nailed a Turkish towel on which a Red 
Cross was stained with human blood! 

"Prisoners?" I asked. 

"All wounded, thank you," was the cour- 
teous reply. 

I sought out my friend the inn-keeper who 
held up his hands in astonishment, bade us 
enter and made us partake of a warm meal. 
The first we had had since we left home! 
[286] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

"But how did you come to be spared?" I 
queried. 

"Because I was good to them." 

"Bah! How could you?" 

"I didn't intend to, but, you see, they 
tricked me. It was early morning when half 
a dozen officers on horseback rode up to the 
door. 

" 'Where are our Allies?' they asked. 

"I thought of course they were Englishmen. 
The uniform was unfamiliar to me, but they 
all spoke perfect French. Unwittingly I gave 
them the requested information, and they asked 
me to bring up some good wine. Then they 
threw a gold piece on to the table, and when 
I had poured out my Burgundy, they begged 
me to touch glasses with them. 

" *Ah, gentlemen, it is a pleasure to offer 
you the best I have. Thank God, it is not for 
German stomachs !' 

"To my surprise, an uproarious laugh 
greeted my statement and brought my glass 
down with a shock. 

" Toor fellow!' they tittered. *Come, drink 
to our success and the Kaiser's health!' 

"I think they realized my fright and agony. 
[287] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

They did not force me — ^but laughed anew, 
drank and were gone." 

"What regunents drove them out?" 

"The Enghsh. Quels gaillards! And clean ! 
Well!" 

"What do you mean?" 

"Yes, they nearly used up all the water in 
Montreuil washing!" 

"Do you know anything of Villiers?" 

"No. I spent most of my time in the cellar 
during the fight, and since they've been gone 
I'm living in terror lest they return." 

"Have you seen no one from down there?" 

"No, not a soul." 

"Do you think Villiers was bombarded?" 

He shrugged his shoulders. "I know the 
English troops that were here headed in that 
direction." 

This suspense was too agonizing! I fear I 
so abbreviated my stay at Montreuil that the 
good inn-keeper was offended. I jumped on 
to my bicycle and knowing that the roads were 
now familiar to all, abandoned my little party, 
bidding them hurry to join me at home. 

On, on I sped, through the slippery mud, 
looking neither right nor left, but straight 
[288] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

ahead in the hope of recognizing a familiar face 
or form. 

Twihght was deepening when I entered 
Bezu-le-Guery (our nearest home town) , which 
seemed to show apparently but few signs 
of pillaging. I did not even dismount to 
make inquiries, but pedaled on till I reached 
the summit of that long, long hill that leads 
straight down to my home. Excitement lent 
a new impulse to my energy, and my heart 
thumped hard as I recognized familiar cottages 
still standing. This raised my hopes and sent 
me rocket-like down that steep incline. 

Still not a soul in sight — no noise save that 
of the guns roaring in the distance. 

But what was that in the semi-darkness 
ahead of me? A dog? Could it be true? I 
back-pedaled and whistled — a long, low, fa- 
miliar howl greeted my ears and brought the 
tears to my eyes. 

And then my poor old beagle hound came 
trotting up the road to welcome me — his tail 
wagging joyously and a long frayed cord 
dangling from his collar. 

This was a relief and somewhat steadied and 
prepared me for what was to come. 
[289] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

Through a gap in the trees I caught a 
ghmpse of the roofs below. And so I rounded 
the corner and started on my last hundred 
yards. 

The broken and tangled grill of our stately 
gateway told of the invaders' visit. A few 
paces further and the chateau come into full 
view. 

Yes, it was standing, but only the shell of 
that lovely home I had fled from but fourteen 
days before. 

Dropping my machine I rushed towards the 
entrance hall, cast one glance through the 
broken panes into the vestibule, and turned 
away in despair. 

All the wilful damage that human beings 
could do had been wrought on the contents of 
my home. 

The spell was broken. My nerves relaxed 
and heedless of the filth I dropped on to the 
steps and wept. 



[290] 



IX 



I THINK it was the stench from within that 
first roused me from my grief and made me 
reahze that this was war and no time for tears. 
I tried to comfort myself with the thought that 
at least I had a roof to cover me, but this was 
poor consolation. 

Pulling myself together, I started across the 
lawn towards the village in search of aid, for 
a second glance told me that it was useless even 
to think of entering the house, so great was the 
filth and disorder. 

Slowly I pushed onward, my head bent, my 
heart heavy with sorrow and worry. Twenty 
paces in front of me I discerned a low mound 
and then, horror of horrors, a huge black cross 
stood forth in the semi-darkness. A grave — 
a German grave. Some poor souls interred 
on my greensward; but why, since our little 
cemetery is but a couple of hundred yards up 
the road? 

yilliers is not a cheerful village even in time 
[291] 



MY HOME IN THE EIELD OF HONOUR 

of peace, but on this particular evening (Sep- 
tember 14, 1914) it was even darker than ever. 
My eyes growing accustomed to the obscurity 
could see that most of the houses, though 
damaged from the battle, were still standing 
and in one or two windows the glow of a light 
gladdened my gaze. 

I went straight to the town hall where I 
pounded on the door and called my name. A 
familiar shuffling of feet told me that Monsieur 
Duguey had remained faithful to his post as 
town clerk (the only acting official since the 
army was mobilized) and when he opened the 
door and saw me, his eyes lit up with joy. 
Holding a candle high over his head, he smiled 
and then his face fell. 

''Pauvre Madame" he said. "Have you 
seen the chateau?" 

I nodded. 

"Ah, the vandals! Not war, but highway 
robbery, I call it. We poor peasants had little 
to lose, but with you, Madame, it is different." 

And then he told me how but a few hours 

after I had left the Germans took possession 

of the chateau and how for five nights and 

days in a ceaseless stream the flower of the 

[292] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

Prussian army had poured down the road to- 
wards the coveted capital. 

At dawn on that eventful September morn- 
ing an officer had ridden up to the town hall, 
called for the mayor or his representative, and 
on Monsieur Duguey's appearance, had de- 
manded so much fodder for the horses, so much 
champagne for the officers, and Charles 
Huard ! 

M. Duguey was taken hostage to respond 
to the first two demands and on having sworn 
on the cross that both my husband and I were 
absent, he was ordered to lead the way to our 
home, where for forty-eight hours he was de- 
tained as prisoner in the kitchen, while a staff 
of German noblemen raised riot in our home. 

Taunted and insulted by the soldiers who 
mounted guard in the kitchen where a chef 
prepared the general's food, he was bid hold 
his tongue and his temper by this same chef, 
who, for eleven years, had cooked at a well- 
known hotel on the rue de Rivoli ! No wonder 
he spoke good French. 

''Pauvre Madame! Perhaps you've come 
back too soon! If we only knew they would 
not return!" 

[ 293 ] 



MY HOME IN THE EIELD OF HONOUR 

The cannon in the distance shook the house 
as though to corroborate his statement. 

"Is there anyone left to help me clean a 
place to sleep in?" 

"I'll go. There are only one or two women 
who remained behind, but I presume they're 
sorry they did! What a God-send you got 
away!" 

I understood and was thankful. 

Monsieur Duguey put his candle into his 
lantern, shouldered a broom, and taking a 
blanket, led the way towards the chateau. 

Want of words to express our fears and 
distress sealed our lips as we picked our way 
into a filthy, can-strewn, bottle-littered court- 
yard, towards a wing of the chateau where I 
had chosen to sleep. 

I hardly know what we plodded through in 
the corridor. My companion pushed things 
into heaps in one corner of the room, and when 
I saw him sweep off a mattress and throw his 
blanket upon it, I realized that my bed was 
made. 

"You are not afraid, Madame?" 

"No." 

"Then, a demain. I will come and help you. 
[294] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

I fear, however, that I must leave you in dark- 
ness, for there are no matches in the village. 
We have to borrow light for our fires, and our 
stock of candles is nearly gone. They are 
only the butts the Germans left behind!" 

Exhausted I fell asleep, to be awakened with 
a start towards dawn by the clatter of horses' 
feet on the paved court beneath my window. 

Cavalry? 

I listened. 

Yes, surely. But what cavalry? Ours? 

Curiosity got the better of me, and I put 
my head out of the empty sash to behold a most 
pathetic sight. There in the pouring rain stood 
some twenty shivering horses, once fine ani- 
mals, but now wounded and broken. The 
lamentable little group, left-behinds of the in- 
vaders, was headed by my old grey donkey, 
who had gathered them together and was now 
leading them towards warmth and shelter. 
This sympathy among animals moved me 
deeply, and I started down to see what I could 
do to alleviate their suffering. 

I am ashamed to say, however, that I never 
reached the stable, for the sights of filth and 
horror that I met on the way so distracted me 
[295] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

that I pushed on through the whole house, 
anxious to see really how much damage had 
been done. 

I was still making my disheartening rounds 
when the others drove into the yard, and the 
wails of lamentation rose long and loud from 
their lips. 

How can one describe it? It seems almost 
impossible. Too much has already been said, 
too little is really known, so I shall content 
myself with a few brief statements. 

Above all I would have it understood that 
the chateau was first occupied by General von 
Kluck and his staff. The names crayoned on 
the doors of my bed-rooms in big red letters 
bear testimony — as well as some soiled under- 
linen and a glassentuch marked v. K. — and 
numerous papers stamped with the Imperial 
seal. These latter are all orders or reports 
belonging to the third army corps, and were 
left behind in the precipitation of the flight ! 

As I now am able to see the matter in a 
cooler frame of mind, I realize that not only 
was efficiency carried out in warfare but in 
looting — for it seems that everything we pos- 
sessed was systematically classified as good, 
[296] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

bad or indifferent — the former and the latter 
being carefully packed into huge army supply 
carts, which for five long days stood backed 
up against our doorstep, leaving only when 
completely laden with spoils. 

Then what remained was thrown into cor- 
ners and wilfully soiled and smeared in the 
most disgusting and nauseating manner. 

A proof of the above-mentioned efficiency 
can be given in a description of my husband's 
studio, where I found all the frames standing 
empty — ^the canvases having been carefully 
cut from them with a razor, and rolled for 
convenience' sake. 

Useless to mention that tapestries, silver, 
jewels, blankets and household, as well as per- 
sonal linen, were considered trophies of war. 
That to me is far more comprehensible than 
the fact that our chateau being installed with 
all modern sanitary conveniences, these were 
purposely ignored, and corridors and corners, 
satin window curtains and even beds, were used 
for the most ignoble purposes. 

Everywhere were sickening traces of sodden 
drunkenness. On the table beside each bed 
(most of them now bereft of their matresses) 
[297] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

stood champagne bottles, and half emptied 
glasses. The straw-strewn drawing-room much 
resembled a cheap beer garden after a Satur- 
day night's riot, and the unfortunate upright 
piano was not only decked with empty cham- 
pagne bottles but also contained some two to 
three hundred pots of jam poured down inside 
— glass and all, probably just for a joke. Oh, 
Kultur! 

I think that and the fact that most of my 
ducks and small animals had been killed and 
left to lie and rot, were the things that most 
angered me, and every time the guns boomed I 
prayed ardently for revenge! 

And 'twas I, who believing in Teuton chiv- 
alry, had imagined my love-letters, protected 
by my country's emblem, would be respected! 
My poor little rosewood desk had been merci- 
lessly jabbed with bayonets, and its contents 
strewn from one end of the village to the other. 
As to the Stars and Stripes, when we finally 
disgorged the pipes of certain sanitary appar- 
atus that one does not usually mention in polite 
society, they were found there in a lamentable 
condition and carried to the wash-house with 
a tongs. 

[298] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

What a destitute little village we were. 
Mine was but the common lot, for each one 
had lost in proportion to his fortune. Yet 
there was no lamenting. There was work to 
be done, for the vintage season was coming 
on and the vines in most places had been 
respected. The German officers had eVen an- 
.nounced the fact that our country was already- 
annexed, and that this was to be the champagne 
to commemorate the triumph of the Father- 
land! 

My little servants took hold of their filthy 
job and worked unceasingly though it was a 
thankless task — for soap and soda did not exist, 
and food, save the vegetables and a little pork, 
was hard to get. 

A week sped by, and then one afternoon a 
military auto drove up to the door. As I saw 
it enter the yard, I trembled lest it bring bad 
tidings of H., but a kindly officer reassured 
me, by stating that though he brought only 
word of mouth, my husband was still in the 
land of the living. He also announced that it 
was his duty to requisition my property as a 
French emergency hospital and that he would 
be obliged if I would put all the beds I owned 
[299] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

at his disposal. A doctor and some infirmiers 
would be sent immediately to put the place in 
working order. Would I help? And did I 
loiow of anyone I would care to have with 
me? 

"You will be voluntary prisoners, you know, 
for this is the zone des operations, and you 
will not be allowed to leave." 

I bethought me of Madame Guix. Was she 
still alive? 

My friend said he would be glad to accom- 
pany me to Rebais, as that was as near as any 
place for recruiting a nurse. 

And so again I whisked across the Marne. 
This time en grande Vitesse, and in little over 
an hour was greeted by the gentle superior who 
'mid the ruins of all the neighboring houses 
was quietly continuing her work in the convent. 

Yes. Madame Guix was there — a heroine, 
so I learned, loved and respected by every soul 
who had been obliged to remain in that un- 
fortunate town. I found her ministering to 
twenty-six severely wounded men — French, 
English and Germans — quite alone to do all the 
work, an eighty-year-old doctor coming in but 
once every two days. 

[300] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

"I cannot leave them," said she, pointing to 
the soldiers, when I asked her to ally forces in 
the reconstitution of my hospital. "But just as 
soon as they are able to be removed, I will 
come! I promise." 

In the parlour below, the Sister Superior 
told me of the invasion, while I waited the 
return of the military motor which was to bear 
me home. 

*'She is wonderful," said Soeur Laurent, 
referring to Madame Guix. "Wonderful — 
afraid of nothing. Once at the beginning of 
the invasion she was put against the wall and 
a brute of a German aimed and pulled the 
trigger of a gun he had found in a corner. She 
had accidentally covered it with a wounded 
man's great coat! He accused her of hiding 
arms! Then in the thick of the battle, she 
went out into the German lines and sought a 
doctor for our men — feeling herself incom- 
petent. The whole German medical staff 
came in and felicitated her on her courage and 
devotion, before they left. I tell you all this — 
because she never will!" 

A couple of days later a doctor and the 
[301] 



MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR 

infirmiers arrived, the latter not picked men, 
since in ordinary life they are a tax collector, 
a super at the Theatre de Belleville, an 
omnibus painter, a notary's clerk and a barber ! 
But they are all "good fellows," ready to work 
with no choice as to the "job." 

Madame Guix duly made her appearance, 
and our hospital was declared open. 

From loans and requisitions we accumulated 
a hundred beds, and for fifteen months now, 
by begging and strictest economy, we have 
managed to keep alive and to care, as best we 
can and in our primitive way, for all those of 
France's brave sons who come to us, sick or 
wounded. With God's help, we shall go on 
doing so until the day of our complete victory. 



[302] 













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